


Summer at Camp Singer

by screengeekdiaries



Category: Supernatural, The Parent Trap (1998)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Angst, Books, Coming of Age, Crossover, Destiel - Freeform, F/M, Fanfiction, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Inspired by a Movie, M/M, Multi, Slow Build, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Summer Camp, Summer Love, Summer Romance, Swimming, Swimming Boys, Teenage Castiel/Teenage Dean Winchester, The Princess Bride References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-01-22 02:51:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 34,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1573409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screengeekdiaries/pseuds/screengeekdiaries
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's really not looking forward to his time at summer camp this year - not only is it the last thing he'd rather be doing during his summer vacation (he'd much rather spend time reading his way through the family library) but it's the first year he's been without his brothers in tow. Which will mean having to make friends with kids his own age. All by himself. Well, as long as there's other guys there, how hard can that be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to Camp Singer!

It was a balmy 62 degrees as the bus trundled down the wood chip track, yet the glass remained cool where it pressed against Cas's forehead. Tree after tree raced by the window until he huffed a sigh that briefly obscured them from sight. He turned and tried, once again, to read the volumous tome that had weighed down his knees for the past hour; usually, Cas could read pretty much anywhere, but there was something about the waddling sway of this particular vehicle that made him go green around the gills. It had nothing to do with the nerves crashing round his insides. Nope, not at all.

Admitting defeat, he stowed the book back in his rucksack and kicked it under the seat. Leaning back against the mothy headrest, he tried to find another way to distract himself from his twisting stomach and the dust mites tickling his nose. His thoughts quickly drifted to his brothers, all of whom had somehow managed to avoid being packed off to camp this year. If they had been here, distractions wouldn’t have been much of a problem. Or the nerves for that matter – he could have talked to Michael about his upcoming college classes, played cards with Lucifer (even if he did cheat 99% of the time), or just pretended to not know what shenanigans Gabe was up to this time. Instead, his social options for the entirety of his trip had consisted of a bus full of rowdy, loud, gossipy girls, who’d spent the entire journey either giving him a wide berth or watching him out of the corner of their eyes.

Not that he could have talked to them, even if he’d wanted to. He and his brother's had wildly different approaches when it came to 'the ladies' (Gabe's words, not his. Usually paired with a wink and a swagger of the hips); Michael had the gentlemanly approach with women, all door holding and flowers and chocolates, a real fairytale prince of a date. Lucifer was the proverbial charmer, sidling up to girls in bars with confidence and offers of drinks, whispering into their ears till their cheeks glowed. And Gabe... well, Gabe somehow managed to laugh his way into dates.

Or their pants, whichever came first.

Cas’s home-run-swing, in comparison, was to stare, wide-eyed and silent, until the lady in question slowly backed her way out of the room. In all his fifteen years he’d never even had a full conversation with a woman his own age, let alone date one, so it was just his luck that he happened to be the only guy on a bus full to the brim with them. In fact, the only thing stopping him from taking a swan dive out the emergency exit was the thought that there’d be other guys around when they eventually got to camp. He caught the eye of the girl sitting opposite him, all pale and brown haired and giving him a questioning eyebrow raise, and got the prickly feeling that he may have just said that last part out loud.

As if the fates had read his mind, a wooden archway appeared up ahead; two towering totem poles etched with faces and strange runes, joined together by a giant arch with the words ‘Camp Singer’ carved lovingly into the varnished woodwork. Cas gulped as they passed beneath, the cold shadow crossing his face and sending his stomach into twisting overdrive. He lay back stiffly, white-knuckling the final five minutes of the drive. The second the bus lurched to a stop, Cas swiped his rucksack from its hiding spot and dived for the front door, leaving a trail of bewildered and slightly annoyed girls in his wake. His escape, however, was hampered by the sunlight that poured through the cavern of leaves above him, blinding him as he reached the last step. Blinking, he stopped, and found himself taking in his ‘home’ for the summer.

This camp was, by far, the biggest one he’d ever been forced to attend; a semi circle of wooden huts surrounded the open patch of gravel where the buses were pulling up, dispensing wave upon wave of excitable school kids as far as the eye could see. Piles of multi-coloured duffels and sacks were forging mini mountains a few feet away, partially obscuring the paths and greenways that led to parts unknown. His nose wrinkled against the harsh mix of petrol and sweet flora, only just failing to cover the scent of - Cas sniffed - barbecue? It was either that or the collective aroma of exposed skin baking under the summer sun. He winced at the metallic shriek that sounded from his left, as a woman with a temperamental microphone and a strange accent tried to cajole groups of kids into their respective dorms. The noise. God the noise...

“Move it, nerd!”

Cas lost focus on his surroundings as the queue of girls that had formed behind him decided they wanted off the bus. Lying in the gravel, he watched as they stepped past him, led by the girl with the long brown hair who he suspected had pushed him out the way. He waited till she’d stomped on past before regaining his balance, and what little remained of his composure, in case she came back for round two. It wasn’t until he'd finished dusting off his slacks that suddenly noticed something.

The swarms of kids making their way off the buses? All girls.

The hordes of chatter bounding between piles of duffles? Girls.

Long hair, short hair, tomboys, girly girls. Every where he looked. Everywhere he turned. Cas could feel his eyes getting wider, his stomach threatening to hurl just as the microphone blared into life. Finally a southern twang rippled through the air, cementing his fate:

“Welcome to Camp Singer for Girls!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I got inspired to do this story whilst watching the 1998 version of 'The Parent Trap' - I always felt for the little boy who turned up, found himself in an all girls camp, and ended up having to stay there the entire summer (because, presumably, he never got through to his mum to come pick him up) cos, you know, that's gotta be daunting for the boy. But still, major kudos to him for sticking it out, making friends with the girls and liking it so much he promises to come back!
> 
> And then I thought, hey, what if that kid was Castiel as a teenager? And so this fic was born! (many apologies if it's already been done, I swear on the SPN cast I didn't know)
> 
> As always, comments and critiques are appreciated! Hope you all enjoy xx


	2. Phone Home

Castiel was on the archaic Camp telephone within seconds of realising where he'd ended up. He wrestled with the machine for over an hour trying desperately to phone home, growing more and more frustrated at every disconnection and busy line. Until finally, as he was about to give up and bribe a bus driver, someone picked up.

It was just a shame that it was Gabriel. 

“Hahahahahaha...”

“Gabe...”

“Haha... HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“It’s not funny, Gabe!”

“Hahaha... hehehehe...”

“Gabe! Look, the phone says I’m nearly out of minutes...”

“Hehehe... oooooh lordy...”

Castiel sighed indignantly as he waited for the hooting laughter to run its course. _Just my luck that Gabe chose today to be at home._ He could just imagine the tears rolling down his brothers face.

“Sorry kiddo, it’s just..." Gabe hiccuped, trying to restrain himself, "they really sent you to an all girls camp?”

“For the last time, yes, now can I please...”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Castiel jerked away from the telephone, wincing at the new burst of static laughter. Quickly glancing around the wood-clad hallway, he checked to see if anyone had just witnessed the new wave of hilarity. Judging from the several raised eyebrows, they had.

“Gabriel!” he whispered sternly down the receiver, turning his back on the group of girls now ear wigging his conversation; it was hard enough trying to control his brother in person, let alone over a dodgy, time-restricted Camp telephone. “Look, I need to speak to Mom, can you put her on for me please?”

“Ooo, no can do little buddy.”

Castiel faltered. “Why?”

“Cos she’s not here. Her and Dad skipped out on honeymoon Numero Tres about an hour after you left.”

A suspicion signal in Castiel’s head started blaring wildly at his brother’s excuse - a signal that had been thoroughly honed over many, many years. _‘Bullshit’_ he thought as he squinted dubiously into the receiver.

"Like Mom and Dad would leave you by yourself. Not without fireproofing the house and locking the valuables away...”

“Oh, they did. AND there’s a contract as long as my arm of rules I have to adhere to whilst they’re gone.” Gabe chuckled darkly. Castiel knew that chuckle well.  _He’s most likely breaking at least five of them now as we speak._ “But you know our folks – like they’d pass up the chance to skip off on some cruise the second most of us are out of the house.”

 _True._ The blood drained from Castiel’s face. The line went silent, save for the crackle of Gabe opening up a chocolate bar.

“Well...” Castiel attempted to rally, “... Can’t you come get me? Or Mike, or Luce?!”

“Pfft! Like I’m allowed near the car after last time!” Even Cas had to nod dejectedly at this observation. _I’d quite like to get home alive. And preferably without finding panties wedged in the back seat._ “Besides, Mike’s out for work for a few days and Lucie’s touring Harvard. Looks like you’ll be sticking this one out kid!”

Lips smacking around chocolate covered treats permeated the pause before Gabe continued with a muffled, "Anyways, it'll do you good - who knows, in four weeks you might be able to look a woman in the eye!"

Cas's own eyes widened in horror as his situation fully dawned on him; he was stuck here. Alone. For the next month. Surrounded by hundreds of girls that he couldn't talk to...

Though he was momentarily distracted from his plight when the sounds of smacking lips turned from mere food appreciation to... well, passion. And Gabe certainly couldn't giggle that high.

Cas squinted down the phone suspiciously.

"Are you with someone?"

"Course not Cassie! What could I even think to do with someone when I've got the - place - all - to - my - self?" As the sound of wet, sloppy kisses starting punctuating every syllable, Cas knew he had seconds till he lost the conversation.

"Gabe wait!"

"Have fun Cas!"

"You can't leave me here..."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't!!"

"Mom said no more sex on the..."

"Use protection!!!"

_Pip pip piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaand that's chapter 2! 
> 
> Kudos and comment to your hearts desire my lovelies, and if you ever want to request some SPN oneshots come find me at www.ooohesslimandalittlebitfoxy.tumblr.com


	3. Staying for the Summer

It certainly wasn't the first year that a boy had ended up at their camp by mistake. And Lord knows it probably wouldn't be the last – no matter how big she got Ash to write the ‘For Girls’ section on their website, there’d still be some folks who plain ignored it. Even if it did now take up half the homepage.

Still, they’d always managed to resolve it, and the parents always arrived within a day or so, apologising profusely as they whisked their poor lad back to civilisation.

But as Ellen came trudging round the front of their office cabin and saw one dejected looking boy sitting slumped on the porch steps, she knew this year was gonna go a little bit differently.

“No luck, kiddo?”

A glum shake of the head was his only response, before resting his chin on his arms as they hugged his knees. The whole look the poor boy had going on made her momentarily forget that he was fifteen. _Those girls will eat him alive._

Still, there was no use crying over spilled milk – if Castiel was staying for the summer, he might as well dive in head first and get it over with.

Where he was going to stay, however, that was a different matter.

“Come on then kid, let’s get you settled whilst I work out where you’re sleeping this summer.” Ellen smiled as she hoicked his rucksack over her shoulder. Glumly, Castiel stood, brushed the leaves and wood splinters from his ass, and trailed behind her.

In the short walk that took them to the other side of the cabins, Castiel lost count of the number of _Hi Ellen’s_ and _Great to see you Mrs S’s_ that called out from the doorways as they passed, which the lady in question always responded to with a smile and a wave. Clearly, everyone knew everyone at this camp. Dismally, he pondered on how he was supposed to befriend anyone here – from previous experience, he knew that established friendships circles were the hardest to get into. That and, well... girls. Perspiration gathered on his brow. He sighed and kept his eyes level with the woodchipped pathway.

The surrounding din increased as they entered the small clearing on the other side. As he raised his head, he noticed that the multicoloured sea of girls were now all in various shades of blue and white. The camp uniform he noted with some surprise – a vast improvement on his previous camp’s burgundy and yellow arrangement.

“Why don’t you go pick something to do while I go talk to Bo... the Camp Chief,” Ms Ellen’s voice broke through his reverie. Although it was phrased as a question, he could tell that there really wasn’t any other option. Her kind smile had an air of no-nonsense about it, so he didn’t have much choice in the matter.

Eyes wide with looming terror, he cast a nervous glance over his potential options, determined to size up which would cause him the least embarrassment; a huddle of girls clutching footballs – memories of being repeatedly hit in the head by them surfaced, so it was quickly dismissed as an option – a table covered in arts and craft materials, a line of ladies in towels, shorts and swimming costumes – _nope!_ \- a red headed girl with glasses chatting animatedly to a counsellor carrying lots of camera equipment... and a rectangle of hay bales with two foils sticking out of them.

Ellen seemed to notice Castiel gazing longingly at the fencing ring. With a gently push, she guided him over to it, calling to the counsellor in charge to get him suited and booted. Castiel didn't even notice when she left – a small vein of excitement was spreading through him as he shucked his hoodie and pulled on the crisp white uniform. Unbeknownst to few outside of his family, Castiel was actually quite the proficient fencer; after falling in love with _The Adventures of Zorro_ as a child, he’d begged his parents to give him sword fighting lessons. Unfortunately for 8 year old him there was no such thing in their town, so they’d compromised and signed him up for fencing lessons instead. Despite the fact he wasn't allowed to practice at home (not through any fault of his own, his parents had assured him – Gabe couldn't be trusted near a plastic knife, let alone a foil or epee) he had fallen in love with the sport; it made him feel like a renegade, modern day pirate, even if it was only twice a week.

In fact, he’d been so wrapped up in getting in his uniform that he didn't get a chance to size up his opponent before the counsellor - all blonde hair and bright smiles - called the match.

“Alrighty, we have for our next match, our reigning champion versus...”

A small conglomerate of girls let up a chorus of cheers and wolf whistles for their masked friend. Castiel gulped – the girl from the bus was there.

“... Novak! Step up to the centre and salute your opponent.”

Tucking his mask under one arm, Castiel walked to the centre of the makeshift ring. His opponent, on closer inspection, was at least an inch or so taller than him. Coupled with a strong upper body and a slight bow to her walk, Castiel knew two things – that her stance would be slightly off kilter, meaning it’ll be easier to knock her off balance, and that she’d favour attack over defense. Quirking a smile, he donned his helmet, a plan of action forming in his mind.

His simple, straight forward bow was met with a flourished, over the top salute (causing Cas to add ‘cocky’ to his opponents list). His heart raced as he went into his engarde stance, foil raised high above his head, feet the correct distance apart as he waited for, with baited breath...

“Aaaaaand... Fence!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is officially back up and running! Sorry for the super long break, but I'm now back in the swing of things and will be posting at least once a week till this is finished! Thank you so so much for your patience! ~ Elle x


	4. Bring. It. On!

Castiel had to hand it to his competitor – what she lacked in technique, she certainly made up for in stamina and brute force.

Backing up at her initial charge, he managed to parry and dodge the incoming blows with the flick of his wrist. Letting her take the advantage, he settled into his defensive stance, and waited for the oncoming attacks; easier to spot in advance, seen as she swung from the shoulder. Circling the arena, they took turns in lunging at each other, weighing each other up, neither willing to give away too much; All the while, Cas allowed himself to be driven backwards. This continued until, eventually, he could feel the hay licking at the back of his ankles. Then, he took his chance.

_My turn._

At her wild lunge, he dodged left and span behind her. The combined momentum had resulted in a reversal of fortune – she was now against the hay bales, mildly confused as to how she got there. Cas bounced lightly on the spot, daring her to make her next move. Whatever she had to come, he was ready for her.

What he wasn’t ready for was for her to jump back, on top of, then over the hay bale.

He lowered his foil, looking to the counsellor to call an end to the match – it was forfeit from the moment she exited the arena, after all – but it never came. The volume of the crowd seemed to swell at this turn of events, and despite not being able to see her face, he could swear she was taunting him through her visor. Or possibly the way she crooked her fingers at him.

_Bring. It. On._

He could practically hear the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ theme tune pounding in his ears as he cleared the hay bale to join her. Even though his brain was going haywires at the blatant rule breaking (a finely tuned instrument thanks to years of Gabe making him his unwitting accomplice) his heart was singing at the freedom it created. There was something so liberating about breaking the restraints of the arena. Their basic, technical steps had been replaced with twirls and theatrics, blades clashing and slashing as they weaved their way through the crowd - Like a scene from _Zorro_ or _The Princess Bride_ come to life. Parry met block, swing met swing; Cas even jumped over a particularly low sweep as it threatened to take out his kneecaps. Thrills ran up his spine. Whoops and screams filled his ears. The world blurred as it spun around him. Castiel struggled to suppress the laughter bubbling up in delight, and swore he could see the matching smile creeping through his partner’s grill.

Sweat was dripping down his face by the time they reached a boardwalk surrounding one of the nearby cabins. Dancing up the steps, he raced his opponent to the furthest corner. She backed up against the slated framework as he blocked her escape. Spine flush with the woodwork, she tried for some wild swings to fend him off and make her escape. Castiel waited, biding his time. Panting filled the air. Her defense cracked open. Cas saw his chance...

“Touche!”

... and drove the rubberised tip of his foil into her chest.

Now usually, when a match is finished in this way, both opponents lower their foils, remove their helms and end with a hearty handshake. In all the years he’d been playing, it had never deterred from this friendly routine (unless he was up against a particularly sore loser. Then he’d have to duck as a foil was sent towards his head).

So he was somewhat unprepared for this match to end with a yelp, her tipping backwards over the fencing, and out of sight.

The splash came just as Cas had reached her recently vacated spot. Leaning as far as he could over the fence, he reached a hand down to her. She swore and spat the contents of the trough she’d landed in out of her mouth. _Oh Cassie, you know just how to make the girls swoon!_ he could hear Gabe tell him.

“Are you ok? Here, let me help you!” he called, hoping against hope that she wasn't too badly hurt. Although she seemed well enough to reach up and take his outreached palm.

“No," she growled, and Cas was struck by just how deep her voice sounded, "let me help you!”

The world tipped on its axis. Before he could even register what was happening, he hit the trough with a soggy thump, water seeping into his skin instantly. Laughter hit his ears as he tried to flail his way out, which turned to whoops and cries of ‘encore’ as they both eventually disengaged from their freezing cold bath (although whether it was for the match, or their now sodden appearances, Castiel couldn't be sure). Cold and frustration seeped into his pores as he ripped off his water logged helmet. Turning his back to her, he attempted to shake the excess water from his hair. He didn't care whether he splashed her or not. She extended him the same courtesy.

Counsellor Hanscum, curls bouncing in excitement, broke through the crowd to meet them, which had appeared to have trebled in number since the match began.

“What. A. Show!" she cried, clasping the clipboard to her chest, "I think we've got ourselves a new Camp Champion – Mr Castiel Novak!” The announcement raised a polite applause, but now that he was coming down from his adrenaline-fuelled high, Cas wondered if winning was really going to do him any favours. His opponent, although less technically skilled, was clearly the firm favourite with this crowd. _Even if she was a cheating, rule breaking son of a b...._

“Come on now," the counsellor chided sunnily, "you two shake hands!”

Sighing, Cas turned to face his opponent. Not because he wanted to, but because it was polite, and fencing decorum dictated that he congratulate her-

No, not her.

_Him._

Castiel’s eyes went so wide he thought they’d pop out of his head. He blinked to make sure he wasn't seeing things – nope, that was definitely not a lady standing before him. The lips were a little pouty, sure, but there was no mistaking the jaw line, the hair, _the freckles_... Castiel didn't know whether to feel relieved that he wasn't going to be the only guy at this camp, or infuriated that his competitor had got him soaking wet not two hours of being here.

The guy, in turn, didn't look so bothered with the situation. Hair dripping, and with a cocky smile that hadn't left his face since he turned around, he held out one hand towards Cas. Trying not to show it, he warily grasped it in return, hoping there wasn't another cold water bath waiting for him if he did so.

“Nice moves, Novak.” He admitted with a nod. Cas bent his head in thanks. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Mr...?”

“Winchester. Dean Winchester. And I should be good; I was Camp Champ two years running till you came along.”

Cas chuckled lightly. _Bless him._

“Well, I have been trained in the foil since I was little, but that’s ok.”

The handshaking stopped, even though neither had let go.

“...Excuse me?”

“Well, if you practiced your footwork and worked on your form...”

Cas could feel the grip on his hand tightening as the Winchester kid squinted at him in disbelief.

“Are you freaking kidding me? I’d have had you if it wasn't for the fence!”

"Do you think you're funny?" Cas asked, squinting.

That cocky smile quirked wider. "I think I'm adorable."

“Please, your footwork was sloppy and you swing from the shoulder. I would have had you in the first two minutes if you hadn't cheated and jumped out of the ring.”

Dean jerked him closer.

“What is it with you and rules, nerd? You wanna go again?”

“My pleasure, if you want to lose again, Winchester!”

Goading wasn't Cas' style, but there was something about the guy that rubbed him up the wrong way. The brief swell of relief had officially gone, replaced by a rage that his frustration only served to fuel. By the time Ellen returned they were butting heads, crushing the life out of each other’s hands, foils abandoned in the dirt. It took her, Hanscum, and two other counsellors to prise them apart, and another to calm down the crowd, whose cries of ‘fight fight fight’ began to echo around the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I couldn't wait till Saturday to update :) So the next few chapters will be going up every week (or every couple of days depending on how impatient I am) 
> 
> Kudos and comment if you enjoyed!


	5. Sleeping Arrangements

So getting into a fight with the Camp Leader’s nephew probably wasn't the smartest decision Castiel had ever made.

Not that Castiel got into too much trouble over it – Dean definitely got the worst of the riot act that was read to them back at Ellen and Bobby’s office. Something to do with ‘representation of the Camp’ and ‘setting a bad example’. Still, he had tried to shift some of the blame from Dean (not that he was sure why – Dean had started it after all) but it hadn't helped; judging by the look of fury that was thrown his way, he had just seemed to make it worse in Dean’s eyes. So he shut up.

By the time the shouting had subsided, both teens were dutifully staring down at the floor in shame. A pink tinge graced Dean’s ears. The nails of Cas’ left hand had been picked clean.

“You’re both as bad as each other,” the older man, Bob- _Mr Singer_ , Cas corrected himself internally – huffed gruffly in conclusion. Leaning back in his desk chair, he contemplated the two boys sat in front of him, itching his head through the cap sat on top of it as he did so.

“Honestly, if I could lock you two idjits in a room till you sort this whole mess out, I would.”

Silence descended in the little wooden room. It settled in the very bones of the building, choosing to hide itself in the bric-and-brac that made up the tiny but well-worn office; filing cabinets of all shapes and colours braced up against the walls, filled to bursting with papers and documents Cas suspected traced back over many years. What wall space wasn't hidden by them was covered in the Camp's history - group photos of smiling, happy girls, all in various stages of fading and sepiation, hung in homemade twig or woven frames. Banners emblazoned with _Camp Singer_ fell between them. The whole room was permeated with the smell of dust and fresh coffee, as the afternoon sun filtered through to warm the memories that remained. And there, in amongst the weary stillness, a spark of interest sprung to Ellen’s mind.

“That’s not a bad idea,” she whispered.

“What?!” chorused the three boys. Ellen, rolling her eyes, turned to answer her husband.

“Not literally, you old coot. I’m thinkin’, why don’t we let them bunk with each other? That way Castiel ain't sleeping alone all summer.”

Both Dean and Castiel looked up at the adults with wide eyes – Dean’s filled with anger, Cas’s with terror.

“Hey! I finally get my own room in this joint and you want me to share it with him?” Dean fumed in outrage, throwing a thumb in Castiel’s direction. He'd just got it just the way he liked it too...

Ellen sighed, rolling her eyes at her eldest nephew. Bobby squeezed the bridge of his nose.

“Not with us, you idjit. She means that you two could bunk up in the Isolation cabin.”

Dean paled as his situation descended into Hell-like territory.

“No way! I’m not putting up with this nerd for the entire summer!”

“Dean, we can’t let Castiel room with any of the girls – not that we don’t trust you dear,” Ellen ensured a still startled Castiel, who had yet to move a muscle, “but the parents would have a field day if they found out. It wouldn't be fair to have him all on his own when he already feels out of place. Besides, it would do you good too Dean – give you the chance to branch out on your own. You can’t spend the whole summer looking after Sam again-”

“I don’t...”

“-and it’d be good for you to make some new friends-"

“I have friends!”

“Dean...” Ellen spoke with a softness Castiel figured was reserved for rare family moments. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Those girls are great, don’t get me wrong. But they also like to spend time together, just girls, and then what do you do? Hang out with Sam? Go sit up by the lake by yourself?”

She seemed to have hit the nail on the head, much to Dean’s apparent chagrin.

“Listen, just... just try it for a few days. See how it goes. And if you both still wanna rip each other’s heads off... then we’ll figure something else out, okay?”

There was something about the set to Dean’s jaw that told Castiel there was a multitude of responses he was attempting to hold back. For a second he actually believed Dean would let one, or many, of them fly. Instead, Dean gave a curt nod, before sending his chair screeching across the floor as he stomped out the door in a flash. Castiel waited, making sure he wasn't about the make some grand re-entry, before turning back towards the slightly more weary looking Camp Chiefs.

“If it’s a problem, I don’t mind staying by myself...”

“Nonsense kiddo.” Mr Singer gruffly cut him off. “We ain't letting you sleep on your own at night. If anything, it’s a safety precaution. We wouldn't want your parents coming down on us like a ton of bricks now, would we?”

He must have still looked apprehensive about the whole ordeal, as Ellen chimed in a few seconds later.

“Don’t worry too much about Dean, hon. It’s not you he’s mad at – he just doesn't take being separated from his brother too well. Ever since... well,” she stopped, and stared at her husband. They seemed to have the sort of silent conversation that Cas knew parents were weirdly good at, before agreeing to something and turning back to face him. “... it’ll do him good in the long run. Give him a few days, he’ll come around.”

“Besides, if you two don’t sort yer issues out soon, and another kid causes a ruckus like the one you boys did this afternoon, we’ll need that cabin back – and unresolved conflicts don’t do well when you’re sharing a tent in the woods.”

Castiel gulped. Despite the smile protruding from that bushy beard of his, he couldn't tell if Mr Singer was kidding or not.


	6. That First Day

There was one sure fire thing Castiel had learnt in all his years of trying to make friends – you just couldn't force kids to like you.

And this situation with Dean was turning out to be no exception to that rule.

If he’d had his way, he would have left Dean well enough alone and limited their time together to their nights in the cabin – they’d both be asleep for 90% of the time, and Cas planned to be as quiet and out of the way as possible for the other 10%. Hell, he was even willing to take on any activity the camp had to offer (with the exception of swimming, let’s not go mad here), with as many girls pointing and laughing at him as possible, rather than suffer the angry looking gaze and potential wrath of Dean Winchester.

But it seemed that Bobby and Ellen had other ideas.

From the first morning in the mess hall they were determined to get Dean to include Castiel in all his activities. Cas, resplendent in a crisp set of Camp Singer shorts and t-shirt, was happily working his way through a bowl of cereal on a table all to himself when he watched Dean cross the room. He was mildly surprised to see him pause about half way to ruffle the hair of a small child; judging from the goofy smiles they gave each other, he must have been the famous Sammy – all doe eyes, toothy smiles and shaggy brown hair, chatting animatedly to a curly haired girl sat next to him as only ten year olds could do. Cas could never be jealous of the young boy, but he could certainly be envious of the ease in which he seemed to converse with the opposite sex.

Dean had happily set up camp at a nearby table with a group of girls he recognised from the fencing ring (which seemed to include the bespectacled red head, sans camera this time, a spunky looking blonde with a wicked right hook, a dark girl with beautiful brown braids dotted with intricate beadwork, and – _oh god_ – the girl from the bus) when Ellen walked up to him and whispered something in his ear. Judging by the heated exchange that followed, plus the furtive glances in his direction from all members of the table, he could guess that they were talking about him.

Cas' bowl of cornflakes suddenly became the most interesting thing in the world to him.

Sure enough, when the all the Camp kids left breakfast to start on their morning activities, Dean and the girls from his table were begrudgingly waiting for him. With a curt “Come on then,” in his direction, Castiel tagged along with the group, though making sure to keep a few paces away. By the time he plucked up the courage to maybe talk to the redhead (who, from his quick calculations, appeared to be the friendliest of the bunch) he heard the brunette whisper “Nerdstiel” in her ear. Face flushed, he swallowed his impending “Hello” and kept resolutely quiet for the rest of the day.

As the hours wore on, Cas felt more alone being in this group than he had since he arrived at this godforsaken camp. He had flashbacks to when his parents used to force Mike and Luce to include him in their friends’ activities. The age difference may have no effect on their relationship nowadays, but no teenager worth their salt wanted an 8 year old tagging along with them and their friends. And being teenagers, they had made their feelings on the matter perfectly clear. Maybe not verbally, but being left hiding for two hours during a game of Hide and Seek certainly drove the message home.

As it turned out, age and experience hadn't really changed matters – it still hurt just as bad as it did all those years ago, whether it was from Bus Girls’ imitations of his failure to kick a ball, or the continued whispering of a nickname that seemed destined to stick like glue. But the laughter was the worst. Even Dean joined in with the laughter. Something supposed to represent beauty and joy should never sound so mocking and cruel.

But if there was one thing time had changed, it was Cas; he wouldn't cry. He outright, flatly, and physically refused to cry.

By the time dinner rolled around, Castiel was both mentally and physically exhausted, to the point where he actually couldn't wait to get back to his cabin. Never had he needed to get lost in a good book more than today.

*~*~*

“Oi, Nerd! Turn the lights out, it’s time for sleep.”

The cabin that they were being forced to stay in was nice, as far as cabins go; large enough to accommodate two beds, two trunks and some shelving, but small enough to be considered cosy. Compact, even. Castiel assumed it was designed so that it kept in what little heat it could trap within its wooden walls. It also meant it was quite difficult to keep up the illusion of ignoring his unwilling roommates’ cantankerous requests.

Still, situated comfortably in the middle of his bed nest of pillows and blankets, Cas stared resolutely at the pages of his book, determined to remain lost inside the pages of his favourite story. _Maybe if I ignore him, he’ll go away._

Unfortunately for him, Dean bloody Winchester had other ideas, as the thrilling climax to the Count of Monte Cristo’s latest adventure disappeared from view as the room was suddenly plunged into darkness.

Castiel channelled almost all his outrage at being disturbed into flicking on the light switch by his bed; the rest he threw into the look of fury directed at the now bleary eyed boy across the room. If his books weren't so utterly precious to him, Cas would have even contemplated hurling his current hardback straight at Dean’s head.

“Hey! What the hell man?”

“I was reading!” Castiel spoke tersely, intense stare boring holes into Dean’s skull. Dean, in return, could only blink back, confusion and almost-sleep clouding his features.

“He speaks!” came his groggy reply, the headphones of his precious Walkman ("Touch it and you pay," was Dean's earlier warning, and somehow Cas didn't think he meant money) slipping from his left ear.

“Well, I hate to break it to you Nerd, but its night-time. Which, to us normal humans, means bedtime. Some of us around here need our beauty sleep.” With a roll, Dean was back under his bed covers, flicking off the light switch by his bed as he did so, and considered the matter closed.

Castiel, on the other hand, did not. So he flicked it back on.

“After everything you put me through today Winchester, can’t you at least give me this one thing?”

Dean’s groan permeated the air between them, brow furrowed in an attempt to ward off the glaring light.

“Everything I put you through? What on Earth did I possibly do to you?”

Cas cocked his head to the side, squinting at Dean in disbelief. Was he deliberately being thick, or did he honestly think he was innocent?

“Oh, I don’t know, how’s about the less than accurate impressions of me? Or the calling me ‘Nerdstiel’ all the time?”

Dean snorted, fighting the rising smile the memories brought.

“And as you should recall, I did exactly none of those things.”

“No.” Cas conceded darkly. “You laughed though.”

Dean rolled his eyes, squirming. “Listen, if it weren't for me letting you tag along with us in the first place, you’d be even more of a lonely loser than you are now. If anything, I've been doing you a favour!”

“A favour?! With the way you treat me when I am around, Winchester, maybe I’d prefer to be alone!” Cas all but shouted. Embarrassed at his outburst, but refusing to let the boy opposite see, Cas swiftly turned back to his book, trying to stem the flush that had flooded his cheeks. Despite his haste, he couldn't help but notice that, once again, Dean seemed to bite back the retort dancing on his tongue. The cocky smile on his face faltered, a slight sadness filling his eyes. Cas couldn't for the life of him work out why.

“Whatever man," Dean said eventually, "it’s not like we have a choice. We’re stuck with each other. Better get used to it.”

As if to put an end to their argument, Dean rolled over and switched off the light. In the gloom, Castiel pondered over the last 24 hours; all the things he’d wanted to say, but kept quiet. All the things he’d just said, but maybe shouldn't have. If it was any other time, any other argument, he would have just accepted it was over and let sleeping dogs (or even Deans) lie. But for once in his life, Cas wasn't willing to back down.

So with a determination he didn't know he had, Cas turned back on the light. Throwing the covers and shooting upright, Dean death stared him down as he slowly, deliberately flicked them off. On. Off. On. Off, the power went, their little electrical tug of war lasting into the small hours, until finally, with a well-worn _crack, pop, sigh,_ the bulb decided to blow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oo err, things appear to have taken a rather angst turn in this chapter... I think I was in a bad mood when I wrote it. HOWEVER I PROMISE THINGS WILL GET BETTER BETWEEN CAS, DEAN AND THE GIRLS! Starting from... oooo the next chapter? Yeah :) ~ Elle x


	7. A Bit of Brotherly Advice

Over the next week, Castiel came to see his reluctant tagging along as somewhat of a routine; Wake up after Dean, have breakfast in solitary silence, follow Dean and the girls to whatever activities they chose for the day, get ignored unless being picked on till dinner, then leg it back to his cabin for an evening of late night torchlight reading and ignoring Dean till they both fell asleep (Dean always at least a couple of hours before Castiel even felt tired). Then repeat.

The only thing that was making him feel any better was that the tension and awkwardness was less palpable than it had been on that first day – either because the group was slowly getting used to his lingering presence, or because Castiel had become used to it. His heart hoped for the former, but his head mocked him with the latter.

“Ah, Cassie, just hang in there – a few more days of tenaciously tagging along and they’re bound to give in and accept you!” Gabe jovially told him during their next phone conversation.

“But I don’t want them to _have_ to accept me. I want them to accept me because they actually like me,” he replied solemnly, twisting the phone cable around his fingers. He’d skipped dinner to phone home, but he’d take feeling hungry for an evening just to talk to someone.

Even if it was Gabe.

“Well...” Cas could hear his brother contemplatively sucking on a lollipop as he talked “... have you given them a reason to like you?”

That particular response stumped Cas for a minute.

“What?”

“I mean, dear brother of mine, have you given them the chance to get to know you yet? Or even had a conversation where you say more than three words?”

Cas stared glumly at the floor, recalling the last few days.

“No, they don’t talk to me. They talk about me, but not to me.”

“Well, have you tried talking to them?”

“I don’t think you realise just how scary these people are.”

“So that’s a no then. Cas, how are you supposed to make friends with these kids if you don’t even try? No offense, little bro, but your ‘silent and staring’ approach kinda looks...” The lollipop sucking increased as he considered the right words, “...standoffish and aloof.”

“But I’m not –!”

“I know you’re not, it’s just the way your face falls. But the only reason I know that is because I've lived with you for fifteen years. They have not had that luxury.”

Cas rested his forehead against the cooling metal of the telephone holder, trying to stave off the panic clawing through his chest. He resisted the urge to bang his head against it.

“Ok, so what if I do try, and they still hate me? What if I try, and they laugh in my face? What if...”

“Then fuck’em!”

He prised his head so quickly from its resting place that he nearly tore the cord off the telephone. His brother had suggested some things to him in his time, but nothing quite like this.

“No, not like that Cas!” Gabe quickly responded, his voice laced with badly contained laughter. “Although that may work too...”

“Gabe!”

“Alright alright, cool your jets kid. Listen, it’s a trick Luce taught me when I was younger – a Novak family secret, he said – and it is to develop a ‘fuck it’ attitude. So when you’re trying to decide whether to do something or not, just think ‘fuck it’ and do it anyway!”

“Really?” Cas asked tentatively.

“Never steered me wrong.”

Scepticism sped through Castiel like a freight train.

“You’ve been suspended from school dozens of times and lost several jobs!”

“And got a fantastic social life and plenty of tail in my time. I’m a better man for it Cas.”

_This explains so much._

“Besides, if it doesn’t work, you’ll never see these kids again once camp is over. What have you got to lose?”

 _My dignity. My pride. My trousers, potentially._ Many, many answers tripped over Castiel’s tongue. But a miniscule part of him desperately wanted to believe in his older brother’s ‘wisdomous’ advice, no matter how much the rest of him wanted to throw it as far away as possible.

Because despite Gabe’s school attendance record, career aptitude and lightly expunged criminal record, he was a happy go lucky guy with no shortage of friends and plenty of partners. What if it was no accident?

“Thanks Gabe, I’ll... I’ll try." Cas went to put the phone, but something niggled at him. "Hey, how come you've never told me this before?”

“Because, my dear boy, you never asked.”


	8. For the Love of Books

Despite all the logical reasons he could come up with, Cas actually tried to put Gabriel’s advice into practice. Not that he was one hundred percent sure how to go about it, but he just hoped that the opportunity would present itself in due course. Hopefully with loud klaxons and neon lights guiding his way, just to make sure.

It was during breakfast the next morning that Castiel received his chance; on making his way to his usual table, tray of cornflakes in hand, he glanced in the direction of Dean and co’s table. He was surprised to find it empty, save for the red haired girl bent double, nose firmly buried in a book, her own tray of food abandoned in front of her. Cas glanced around, expecting Dean to come barging in at any given moment (and since Cas was sure Dean had left well before he awoke this morning, he was perplexed has to why he hadn't done so already.)

But he didn't. And there was no sign of any of the other girls being in the mess hall yet. So Cas steeled himself, thought ‘Fuck it’ and, gripping his tray so tight his knuckles turned white, headed over to their table before he could talk himself out of it.

However, he wasn't quite brave enough to just plonk himself down in a seat – it was rude, if anything, to do so without asking – but his heart was lodged so far in his throat the thought he’d puke if he tried talking. So he settled on hovering next to her, anxiously waiting, hoping she’d look up and notice him.

_If she doesn't see me in the next two minutes, I can just walk away. I tried. At least I tried. Stupid Gabe and his stupid ‘fuck it’ theory. Stop it! No one’s noticed this is happening. It’s not that awkward. Ok it really is. Three more seconds. Two, one..._

“Hi there.”

Cas hadn't realised he’d closed his eyes till he opened them and saw the girl staring up at him. And not in a nasty ‘what the hell are you doing here’ kind of way either. She had kind, sparkly eyes, a gentle voice. She was smiling up at him.

So he bit the bullet and smiled back too.

“It’s Castiel, right?” Her smile turned into a full blown grin at their progress. She waited patiently for a response, but when it was non-forthcoming (save for a polite nod) she decided to take the proverbial reins a little.

“I’m Charlie. Come join me!”

The poor boy looked relieved to be finally sitting down. Charlie could see he wasn't quite ready to be thrown straight into a conversation (despite her knawing interest to discover why it took him so long to do this) so she waited for him to compose himself. Besides, she’d gotten to a really good bit of her book, and despite this boy's somewhat mysterious allure she just couldn't resist its sirens call.

Castiel couldn't quite believe it had worked. He was actually sitting at their table! Ok, with only one member of their group, but still. And she was nice to him too. Surely it couldn't be this easy? Surely he was missing some social cue that would inevitably eject him from the table and back into nameless obscurity...

_“Have you given them a chance to know you yet? Or even had a conversation where you say more than three words?”_

He silently cursed Gabe’s words as they floated through his head. Conversation? How was he supposed to converse with the girl, he knew nothing about her! Cas frantically looked about, searching for anything that he could use as a topic starter – clothes? No. Glasses? He didn't wear any. Breakfast? Hardly, she was too busy reading to even touch...

“So, you like... books?” It was squeaky, it was shy, but he’d said it. Somehow, Charlie managed to look at him and keep one eye on the story at the same time.

“Yeah, love them, you?”

“If it wasn't such a socially weird thing to do, I’d lock myself in a library and never stop reading,” Castiel admitted truthfully before kicking himself at how nerdy that last sentence just sounded. Charlie, to his surprise, squealed with glee.

“Oh my god me too! That’s like my heaven on earth!” Excited, she slammed shut her book, making sure to mark the page before she did so. Cas could see her bouncing in her seat as she turned to face him. “So if you were trapped in a library, what would you read first?”

Castiel’s heart soared as they ploughed into their love of books. Charlie talked fast, and Cas was a little slow to begin with, but they soon got into such a comfortable rhythm that the world outside their little bubble kind of faded from their minds. Cas forgot about the awkwardness, forgot about Ellen watching him like a mother hawk from the opposite side of the room. He even forgot that others were supposed to be joining them till their trays landed next to them with a clatter.

“Hey guys, what are you chatting about?” the blonde greeted through a mouthful of toast.

“Nerdy book things by the sound of it,” Bus Girl responded before Charlie could, plonking herself on the other side of Castiel. He tensed. The rest of the circle was filled in by the girl with the braids, who greeted Cas with a sleepy slow “Morning”, and finally Dean, who sat opposite him and said nothing.

“Actually, Jo, we were,” Charlie replied to the blonde as Cas subconsciously edged away from Bus Girl. “Castiel was just telling me about his favourite books...”

“Oh god, dude, don’t get her started! I once asked her what she was reading, and she didn't shut up for an hour!” It took Castiel a second to realise that Jo was actually talking to him. The shock at such an event occurring must have been written all over his face because Charlie - _thank goodness for Charlie_ \- took up the conversational slack on his behalf again.

“Yeah, and you threw a pillow at my head to do so,” she laughed back. The act may have sounded harsh to Castiel at first, but the tone in which they recalled it was friendly and light. He began to relax as the laughter filled the table. Until...

“Well, it’s nice to see Nerdstiel graced us with his presence this morning to keep you company.”

The spreading warmth froze as four pairs of eyes turned towards the conversation stopper.

“Meg!”

“What? Like we all haven’t been thinking it. He’s spent the best part of the last week creeper-staring at us from across the room,” the girl next to Cas responded, throwing a thumb his way for good measure.

The glowy feeling that had been spreading through his chest deflated like a sad, spluttering balloon. Cas stared solemnly into his soggy breakfast. Bus Girl - Meg - was right; he couldn't just come over here and expect to fit right in. Not that he’d expected to fit in at all, but in hindsight he could see how it must have looked to them. He made a move to get up, to walk away and pretend like it never happened, but an unexpected hand on his leg prevented him from doing so.

“Have you ever considered that the boy may just be shy, kitten?” The girl with braids – Rhonda, according to the necklace she was wearing – countered calmly, pointing an eggy fork in Meg’s direction as she did so.

“I know that emotion ain't exactly in your wheelhouse, but still, that crap can be crippling. I mean, no offense,” she continued, turning on Cas with a speed that did not match her speech, “the staring was kinda creepy, so don’t do it again and Meg can stop complaining. Got it?”

A silence lulled over the table as they all let her speech sink in. Even Dean, who Castiel thought was too busy stuffing his face to pay attention to the conversation, cast a wary eye in his direction.

Cas nodded quick, before all sense failed him. "Got it."

With an encouraging smile from Charlie, and a trusting removal of her hand, Castiel maneuvered back into his chair and began tucking into his mushy cereal. He wasn't mentioned again as the chatter slowly spread back through the group, but the awkwardness he’d felt over the last few days seemed to all but evaporate.

Maybe he was getting somewhere with this ‘fuck it’ business after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so so much for the comments and kudos! I'm so very happy y'all are enjoying this fic :) I'm having a blast writing it, and I can't wait to upload the next couple of chapters - it all gets a bit interesting...


	9. Through the Hedge, Over the Edge

Cas was quite ready to retract his previous statement when, not even an hour later, he found himself alone. Well, not exactly alone, he was surrounded by girls in the queue for today’s sports activities (a choice of badminton, basketball or rounders, not that any of them really took his fancy) but Charlie, Meg, Rhonda, Jo and Dean were nowhere to be found. All he’d done was stop to tie up his shoelaces. He didn't think that simple act was worthy of being ditched, but hey, he barely knew them, so who knows?

Still, the whole incident had left him pondering as he stood towards the edge of the circling queue, trying to keep some distance between him and a couple of particularly boisterous girls.

“Psst, Nerdstiel.”

Cas whipped his head around at the sound of his ‘beloved’ nickname being whispered to him. He was sure it hadn't come from any of the girls immediately around him. Did they even know it? If camp was anything like school, news, gossip and nicknames would spread like wildfire.

“Oi, Nerd!”

The sound was definitely coming from behind him. Which was odd, considering the only things there were shrubs and trees.

_Have I been so lacking in social contact that I’m now imagining trees talking to me?_

With a confused frown, he shook that particular thought from his mind. Even if that were the case, he doubted that his subconscious would choose Meg’s voice, no matter how mentally unstable he became.

Which was probably why he jumped about a foot in the air when he saw her face protruding from a nearby bush, strange and terrifying in equal measure. For a moment, she reminded him of Grandmother Willow from Pocahontas – if Grandmother Willow was a 5ft nothing shrub with a face like thunder, that is.

“Don’t just stand there, get your ass over here before someone sees!” she hissed. He squinted back, trying to suss out what the hell she was doing. It seemed like she was attempting to ditch camp mandated activities for a day in the woods. And for some unknown reason was inviting him to come alone. Was she trying to make up for this morning? Or for pushing him off the bus? Unlikely – Cas suspected he was to be her scapegoat in case she got caught.

Cas felt at war with himself over what to do because a) Ellen had told them on their first day that under no circumstances were they to enter the forest unattended (not good for someone who was a stickler for the rules) and b) the woods were kind of big – big enough that Meg could kill him and bury the body without it ever being found.

But from the look on her face, if he didn't move soon, she might just do it anyway.

Another face soon emerged from between the branches to join them. Cheeks flushed with excitement and hair tangled in the leaves around her, Charlie grinned cheekily up at him, wide eyed and inviting. Surely Meg wouldn't kill him with her around?

“Come on Castiel – it’ll be fun!” she frantically waved him over to their bush, almost like she really wanted him to come on whatever adventure they were about to embark on...

Fuck it.

He dived headfirst through the bush without so much as a backwards glance. Twigs scratched lines against his skin, his heart doing the can-can against his ribs as he battled his way through the shrubbery, until finally he emerged on the other side sweaty yet victorious to the sounds of Charlie’s energetic victory dance. A proud smile graced his face as the realisation of what he just did hit him, and he felt the urge to join Charlie in celebrating. That is, until Meg rolled her eyes in a sarcastic ‘well done you’ way.

“Let’s roll nerds!” she called, stomping off ahead into the undergrowth. The smile faltered as Cas wondered what the hell he did this time, and almost threatened to slip off entirely when Meg showed no signs of waiting for them. Fear of getting lost in an endless forest began to flash across Cas’ mind until Charlie slinked an arm through his. Hair mussed, the scarlet tones shining in the dappled light, and creamy skin aglow with anticipation (coated with the faintest glimmer of post dancing sweat) she tugged and bounced at his elbow till he got with the program. Her excitement was contagious, and before he knew it, they were both stumbling through the forest, leaving a trail of laughter in their wake.

*~*~*~*

Castiel could hear whoops and shouts filtering through the trees ahead of them. Despite a lack of definite trail way, Charlie seemed to know exactly where she was going. She led the way, arms linked at the elbow, excitement radiating from every pore. As the laughter increased in volume, from between the squealing and cat-calls Cas could just make out the sound of... splashing?

The trees eventually cleared, parting to reveal the most gorgeous lake hidden in the heart of the woods. A makeshift jetty of well worn extended from the bank to its centre, its legs the only things perforating the greeny-blue waters around it for as far as the eye could see. The blazing sun made the water sparkle invitingly, and danced off the slowly bronzing skin of those who were already enjoying nature's offering, yet a gentle breeze kept the heat at bay and filled the air with the sweet smells of flora and fauna.

It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, and all Cas wanted to do was turn tail and get as far away from it as possible.

If Charlie noticed the way he froze to the spot she didn't say anything. Instead, she shimmed out of her camp uniform as fast as she could whilst simultaneously running along the length of the jetty. Once she was in nothing but her swimming costume she cannonballed off the end with a whoop of delight, splashing her friends with glee as she did so.

“Come on Castiel, the water’s lovely!” Charlie called back, spitting water as she surfaced.

Her call stopped his slow retreat back into the tree line. He felt so stupid; being torn between every fibre of his being screaming for him to get away from the water, and not wanting to jeopardise all the progress he’d made today. He couldn't even remember the last time someone, _anyone_ asked him to join in the fun they were having. So, steeling every nerve he possessed, he slowly, oh so slowly, inched his way down the jetty towards them.

He didn't realise he was holding his breath till he finally reached the edge of the pier. Folding his legs under him, he sat and watched the fun unfold in front of him – Jo, Rhonda and Charlie had become engaged in some form of splash war, so vigourous that Cas could feel drops on his skin even from his high perch. Meg floated a little way away, her stomach exposed to the late morning sun in an attempt to alter the colour of her lily white skin. And Dean... well, Dean was doing laps of the lake with such ferocity that it looked like he was training rather than doing it for pleasure.

Still, what did Cas know? It’s not like they had talked since the Lightbulb Incident.

Cas sighed, watching Dean take another lap of the lake. The water really did look inviting, and calm save for the ripples reaching out towards him. Feeling brave, he tentatively dangled one leg over the edge of the pier, his toe precariously close to the surface of the water. _Maybe if I can get my foot in, the rest won’t be so – argh!_

He violently flinched away from the underwater hand that had tried to grab his ankle. The hand was attached to an arm, a shoulder, and soon the smiling blondeness that was Jo broke the surface. From his position up on the pier, she kind of looked like a shark coming up to greet him.

“Castiel, you perv, what are you doing just sitting there? Get your ass in the water and join us.”

He gulped. Silence stretched out between them as he frantically ransacked his brain. _Say something. Anything! Before they guess the truth!_

“I, err.... I forgot my trunks?”

“So? Didn’t stop me!” called Rhonda, snapping the strap of her bright green bra for emphasis.

“Yeah, but errr...” Cas stuttered, rising, looking around for a better excuse. Or an exit route. He’d take either at this point. “I can’t go in the lake because...”

“Why, you scared?”

Cas whipped around as a voice came from behind him. Meg, at some point, had joined him on the pier, hair plastered to her head and arms on her hips. Even in her soggy state, she was terrifying.

“No! Because the water, it’s full of algae, and it’s err...”

Her eyebrows raised in suspicion as he tripped over his excuses. He didn't see the other girls joining them on the platform, nor Dean slowly making his way back to shore. All he saw was the scorn in her face as she stepped towards him.

“... it’s not very good it you swallow it. Or get it in your ears. It can cause sickness and errrr... vomiting. Infections. Upset stomach. Because of... bacteria, you know. From the algae?”

His throat closed as she closed the gap between them; Meg’s nose was barely a hairs breath from his. Her breath ghosted his cheeks. She leant in. Castiel’s heart stopped. She whispered-

“God you’re such a nerd.”

-And with a playful but powerful shove, pushed him off the pier.

He crashed into the depths with such a high pitched scream that it sent the girls into peals of laughter. By the time Dean came swanning down the jetty, their giggled had subsided as they waited for Castiel to resurface. He joined them as they leant over the side of the pier, watching the cascade of bubbles float and pop their way to the water’s edge. It was only when they disappeared completely that Dean piped up.

“Hey guys – Castiel can swim, right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhh sorry for the cliffhanger ending guys, I couldn't resist! 
> 
> As always, feel free to leave comments and kudos, and come find me at ooohesslimandalittlebitfoxy.tumblr.com ~ Elle x


	10. The Water's Lovely

All rational thought in Castiel’s brain shut down the second his body hit the water. A very small section was trying to get him to kick, crawl, claw his way back to the surface like he’d seen in the movies. The larger, dominant part of his brain was more preoccupied with the fact that he was _in the fucking water!_

His body’s natural response to this fact – to flail, scream and thrash – was hampered by said water weighing down on top of him. He tried to remember what he’d read about swimming. _Kick, stroke. Kick, stroke._ But his limbs weren't cooperating. The surface drifted out of his reach as the water took his clothes, and they all dragged him down.

Castiel shut his mouth when he noticed the screaming wasn't just in his head; air bubbles were rushing like a torrent out in front of him, running away with what little remained of his voice and oxygen. But the burn slowly spreading in his lungs told him the damage was already done. He looked up, watching the surface dance further away as he sank. Still he reached, straining his body to breaking point, his arms getting heavier as the burning reached his throat.

The fear slowly faded as he ran out of oxygen to feed it. Instead he focused on the rippling sunlight glint teasingly above him, trying to ignore the hands of darkness wandering into his peripheries. Down there, in the silence, everything was bathed in an eerie blue light; right down to the tiny jeweled fish that swam between the speckles of light, as dainty and graceful as snowflakes. Weightless in the water. Time seemed to slow down around him – as if the last remaining seconds of his life were stretching out before him, giving his underwater world a weird, ethereal glow. And as his hair float in a darkened halo around him, he pondered how something so beautiful could be so deadly.

_Isn't it ironic that the one thing I've spent my life avoiding is the thing that ends up ending it?_

The largest of the hands swam down to claim him, his final bubbles of air floating where he couldn't follow.

_Charlie was right. The water is lovely..._

*~*~*~*

Dean broke the surface of the water with a giant gasp, a lifeless Castiel secured in his arms. Making sure his head remained above the water, Dean used one arm to anchor him to his chest whilst the other was used to claw their way back to shore.

Dean had lost track of how long Cas had been under by the time they flopped onto the edge of the lake, but from the plaid tone his usually tanned skin had gone, it was too long for Dean’s liking. Stretched out on the soil and stones, Cas reminded Dean of the CPR mannequin Bobby and Ellen made him practice on – palid, waxy and way too still. Remembering his training, he pressed an ear to Castiel’s chest, his own heartbeat throbbing too hard to make out anyone elses, but the lack of breath ghosting across his cheek told him everything he needed to know.

“Don’t you die on me, Nerd.”

Palms laced together, he found the sweet spot on the center of Castiels chest and began the compressions. The forest went quiet around them, save for Dean’s grunts of exertion and the sounds of ‘Staying Alive’ running through his head.

“Breathe you dork.”

A rep of twenty came and went. Pinching his nose, Dean placed his lips on Castiel’s still, cold ones, feeding as much air into his lungs as possible. Previously, Dean had been wary about potentially having to ‘kiss’ a dude if the situation arose. He’d been met with a clout around the ear from his aunt and Bobby’s stern reasoning that “if yer more worried about locking lips with a guy than saving him, then you don’t deserve to be in this class.” Now, of course, he could see how right his uncle had been, and barely hesitated .

Dean spluttered out, raising his head. He waited, expecting Castiel to cough and come back to life.

Nothing.

“Don’t you give up on me!”

He restarted the compressions, a little more forcefully than before. He’d always pictured his drowning victims reanimating after the first bout of breath, coughing up the water then declaring Dean their hero. So when Castiel still lay motionless after the second set of breathing, desperation began to set in.

“Breathe, dammit, breathe!”

The compressions became so forced Dean thought he’d crack Castiel’s ribs, or plough straight through his chest plate.

"Come on Castiel!"

Dean nearly burst a lung forcing the air down Castiel's throat. _Why isn't this working?!_

_Cas has to come back._

"Wake up!"

Compressions turned to thumping fists. _I need to apologise._

"WAKE UP!"

Tears fell onto Castiel's face. _I didn't tell him I'm sorry._

"COME ON!"

The girls jumped as Dean slapped the lifeless boy across the face. His voice was so hoarse he couldn't finish breathing into his lungs. He knelt there, panting. Watching for any signs of life. Any movement. Anything.

"Please, Castiel... please?"

But there was nothing. It had been too long, surely. _He's... gone._

With one last cry, Dean brought both fists down in wild desperation...

And was met with two blue eyes flying open, a retching cough, and a tidal wave of lake water spewing over his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... ooops my finger slipped! So sorry for leaving you guys hanging this week - do you know how tempting it was to do it again for this chapter? Hehehe :)
> 
> Kudos and Comment if you're liking this fic so far! ~ Elle x


	11. Fire Burns Hotter Than Water

The burning was worse coming up than it was going down. That was the first thought that popped into Castiel’s head – probably not the one he should have been focusing on, but it was the one he was going to stick to. Because it felt like he was trying to retch fire from his lungs rather than water.

And it wasn't just concentrated in his lungs either; his chest felt like it had been run over by a jack hammer, whilst the sun decided to scorch his retinas the second he dared open them. Blinded, he scrabbled the air for purchase, his oxygen-starved brain tricking him into thinking he was still underwater.

A figure moved to block the sun, and for a second Castiel was grateful. It rolled Castiel into his side, and as the contents of his lungs and stomach emptied onto the rocky ground around him he found himself breathing in air. Sweet, wonderful, intoxicating air. Castiel sucked it in greedily, drunk on the lung nectar he had been starved of for far too long.

A hand rubbing gentle circles into his back brought him back to the world around him. Slowly, he tried opening his eyes again. The fuzzy figure above him shifted into focus. Despite the suns silhouette he could make out bottle green eyes, wide and petrified, a flare of freckles across tear stained blemishes, a mouth, pink and plush, parting slowly as if to paint words...

“Castiel? You ok?”

He nodded slowly, though he felt far from it. The burn had faded to numbness everywhere except his lungs, so vocalising the truth would only end in a coughing fit. The cold clung to his skin with strength so fierce even the suns warmth couldn't penetrate it, and his mind could only stand to concentrate on one thing at a time. Hence why a heaving sob dragged his attention away from Dean’s searching stare to the girls behind him.

They stood in a huddle where the pier joined the land – Charlie in the centre, sobbing into Jo’s shoulder. Jo on one side of her, looking petrified, Rhonda on the other, looking relieved, both with their arms around the redhead, trying to console their hysterical friend. And to the side, Meg stood, hollow and unmoving, her face scrubbed clean of any expression.

Anger burned hotter than the lake water ever could. All the rage, the loneliness, the fear bundled up inside him like an enormous elastic band ball; woven and twisted and waiting for the final band to snap. It coursed through his system, burning at the numbness, the surge fuelling him enough to attempt to stand.

“Castiel?”

He didn’t care for the worry that laced Dean’s voice. He batted Dean’s hand away as if it were nothing more than a fly. He rose, shaky legs just strong enough to hold him, never taking his eyes off the girl standing before him, stock still, lily white and face as blank as a newly stretched canvas. Her eyes were like two black buttons, glazed and nondescript. _How could she just stand there? Doesn't she feel guilty? Doesn't she care that she nearly killed me?!_

The burn reached his brain, the heat blazing in his eyes as he reached his full height. If looks could smite, Meg would be nothing but dusty ash on the ground right now. Deadly silence rippled around them. Even the birds knew not to disturb it. The air was like smog, thick with tension as the group waited, breath bated, for something to happen; for Meg to snark, for Cas to snap.

“Castiel? You ok buddy?”

“I am NOT your buddy!”

The whole group jumped as Cas turned on Dean, poised to strike like a snake caught in a trap. Despite being a couple inched taller, Dean cowered under the glare of those lightning eyes, retracting his outstretched hand as if Cas would bite. They raked Dean’s face, scouring it for signs of condescension, trickery, derision, anything that resembled the looks he’d become accustomed to over the past week. Because for the life of him, Castiel couldn't work out why Dean seemed suddenly worried about him, why he was talking to him, being _nice_ to him…

Until it clicked. Dean wasn't worried about Cas. He was worried about Cas telling on them to his aunt and uncle.

Castiels shoulders sagged as the weight of everything took over. He was tired. Tired of trying to be friends with these people, tired of struggling, tired of being at this cursed camp.

"Fuck you, Winchester. Fuck you all."

Cas turned his back on everyone and staggered into the forest, the chorus of his name falling on deaf ears.

He wanted to go home.

*~*~*

“Wow.”

“I know.”

“Wow!”

“Yes, I know.”

“...Wow!”

“Can you please say something other than ‘wow’, Lucifer?”

Cas stood in the office hallway, dripping sullenly onto the wood floor beneath him, the wall to his right taking the brunt of keeping him in an upright position. The surge of anger, adrenaline, whatever it was that had propelled him here was fading fast, leaving only tired and cold in its wake. He closed his eyes, using what was left of his energy to rasp hoarsely down the phone, relaying the whole ordeal to his big brother Luce.

"Sorry, it's just... wow! So what are you going to do?"

Castiel fixed a piercing stare at the receiver, forgetting that Lucifer couldn't see him; out of everything his story had to offer - the bullying, the push, the _near death experience_ \- why was he focusing on this?

"Do? There's nothing to do. What's done is done - you can't undo a near drowning in the lake."

"Au contraire my petit frere." Luce sing songed down the phone, the wheels of calculation turning in his mind. "The ball is entirely in your court. Play your cards right, and you could hold this over them all summer. Essentially, they're your bitches!"

He could picture his brother as he spoke, lounging nonchalantly on a sofa, running a hand through his perfect blond hair as if there wasn't a care in the world. Probably on the cushy blue one in the living room no doubt, where it was cool enough to be comfortable and warm enough to be cosy. If he squeezed his eyes tight enough, Cas could picture himself there too, curled up in his favourite armchair, toasty and dry and surrounded by hardbacks. If only three clicks of his heels could really fly him home.

"I don't want them to be my 'bitches'-”

“Oh come on Castiel! Where’s your sense of imagination?”

"I just want to go home," he finished tiredly.

A foreboding chuckle sent his stomach plummeting before Lucifer could even get the words out.

"Afraid not little buddy, it’s Mike's turn with the car today and I’m not going to argue him for it. You won’t believe the deals I had to make to get the keys for this Saturday! Besides, someone's gotta keep a north eye on Gabriel around here, Lord knows what would happen if I didn't." Condescension smothered his voice like butter over a corn cob, stoking at the burning embers in Castiel’s belly; he was getting rather fed up of being looked down on, teased, laughed at.

"I don't care if you have to steal it from his work and strap Gabe to the roof; I want you to pick me up NOW!”

Silence descended over the line. Castiel wasn't one for angry outbursts, and here he was having his second in as many hours. Lucifer was taken aback by the rage that came from his youngest brother. He was used to it, nay, expected it from Michael, or even their dad when one of them (usually Gabe) did something spectacularly naughty. But from Castiel? Quiet, inquisitive Castiel? He was stunned. Impressed, but stunned.

“Ok Cas. Gimme an hour, I’ll… I’ll see what I can do.”

Quelling the last of the rage in his chest, Cas nodded. Luce could be a manipulative so and so sometimes, but when he said he was going to do something, he came through.

“Thank you.”

He placed the phone back in the cradle, trying not to take out his feelings on the delicate handset, before steeling himself to make the long, arduous trudge back to his cabin.

At least, that was the plan anyway. Until he ran, with a soggy splat, smack-bang into Mr Singer.

“Bloody hell Novak, what happened to you?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are magnificent, how ever did I deserve all your kind comments and kudos??
> 
> ooohesslimandalittlebitfoxy.tumblr.com ~ Elle x


	12. Call Me Cas

Dean was run ragged by the time he managed to find Castiel. He’d searched the camp high and low, from football field to fencing post, dodging counsellors and Aunt Ellen as he went like some modern day super spy. He parted wave after wave of girls as if he were Moses, ignoring their shouts of distain as he jogged on by. By the time he ran into his younger brother, his shirt was soaked in more than just lake water.

“Hey, Sammy! You seen Castiel anywhere?” he panted, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. From the way Sam’s forehead wrinkled, he guessed he wasn't pulling it off.

“Castiel Novak? You know, dark hair, blue eyes - weird, dorky looking guy?”

“You two playing hide and seek or something?” Sam asked curiously, squinting up at Dean through big brown eyelashes. Dean resisted the urge to face palm; after all, hide and seek sounded a better alternative that admitting the truth.

“Yeah Sammy, we’re playing hide and seek -”

“Well then I can’t tell you where he is. That’s cheating!” Dean groaned in frustration as Sam raised his chin defiantly. There was no arguing with the kid really, not with that amount of logic. And certainly not without changing the story he’d unwittingly backed himself into; God knows he wasn't about to drag his younger brother into his mess. So Dean settled for wiping the tiny, yet perfectly formed, bitchface off Sam’s face by mussing up his hair.

“Fair play Sammy, fair play.” He said through a plastered on smile, rising to survey the land around him. The heat beat upon him mercilessly, and a wood chip pinched viciously in his shoe, but nothing could distract from the panic rising in his chest. Visions of the boy flicked through his mind as he failed to spot him in amongst the crowded cabins – Castiel pale, Castiel lifeless, Castiel lying in the middle of the woods, concussion having taken hold...

A small but determined tug at his shirt tail ripped Dean from his daydreams. Scrubbing his face, he looked down, somewhat surprised to see blonde curls and doe eyes instead of brown hair and hazel.

“I know where Castiel is, Mr Dean” the girl – Jess, he remembered – whispered up at him. Dean, failing to stem the tide of hope that swept over him, bent to her eye level as she looked cautiously around, her moral consciousness to do right battling against her loyalty to Sam. She needn't have worried, Dean mused; she and Sam were thick as thieves, their friendship too strong to be rocked by this. Still he lent her his ear as Jess imparted her knowledge, secretly wishing he had a comrade like her too.

*~*~*

“Where the hell have you been?!” Dean barked from the doorway before realising just how much of a _mom_ he sounded.

True to Jess’s word, Castiel had been firmly ensconced in the Isolation cabin – their cabin, Dean remembered, mentally kicking himself for not thinking to check there first. Sitting cross legged in his cot, Castiel just stared back at him, silent, level and unblinking. Dean had gotten used to it over the last week from across the distance of the mess hall. Far way it was a little unnerving, but up close Dean felt like he was being x-rayed from the inside out. He resisted the urge to squirm in the doorway, instead closing it and edging towards the boy like a dog in unmarked territory.

“I’ve been here. Where’d you think I’d be?” Cas responded quietly, voice husking like it’d been dipped in glass. As he dropping his gaze back to the threadbare cover he was picking at, Dean felt the air return to his lungs. Pocketing his hands, he stood in the centre of the small room, rocking on his heels as he racked his brain for an answer.

“I dunno man, this is a big camp. You could've been anywhere.” A shrug was his only response. Dean waited, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck, trying to assess Castiel for damage – a little tricky given the turn of his head and the way he was curled in on himself. The most he could make out was that the boy was now dry, or at least drier than he had been over an hour ago. So despite the frosty atmosphere in their cramped cabin, he attempted, cautiously, to pursue the conversation.

“How – how are you doing?”

“You mean besides being pushed into a lake? Besides drowning? Oh yeah, I feel great Winchester, thanks for asking!” Castiel snapped back, sending Dean reeling, the volume reverberating around the small space. “Don’t act as if you care.”

“Of course I care!” Dean countered, bristling. “Why the hell do you think I’m here?”

“Oh please, we both know you’re here to make sure I don’t go running to Mr Singer and Ellen about this. You care about nothing but saving your own skin.”

“Don’t you _dare_ say that to me! How could you think that?” Dean hissed, jaw tightening, finger pointing accusedly in Castiels direction.

“Because in case it has escaped your notice, this is the longest conversation we've ever had. And up until this morning you've chosen to either make fun of me or ignore me completely. So please, tell me, what other conclusion am I supposed to draw?”

Dean exploded.

“I pulled you out! I tried to save you! Do you know what it’s like to see someone just lying there, not moving, not breathing, and nothing you do to help them is working?! You nearly di-”

Cas, caught out by the voice break, shot upon Dean’s stricken face. Ashen and pale, he looked like he was about to throw up on his own words.

“And then – you left – and I couldn’t – what if you’d - ?”

Castiel took in the boy standing before him. The anger swirling in his chest paled as his eyes found the backwards shirt, clinging damply to his heaving frame. Found the barely contained tears forming pools in his eyes, held back by sheer force of will. Found no sign of the cocky bravado he’d come to recognise, no sign that he was here for anything other than Castiel himself...

And wondered if maybe, just maybe, he’d judged the boy too harshly.

“I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. I- I didn’t mean what I said.”

With a tired sigh, Dean collapsed onto his own bed, back flat and staring resolutely up at the ceiling. He wiped away a traitorous tear and Castiels stilted apology.

“Whatever man. Do what you like. Tell Bobby and Ellen, I don’t care. Probably deserve it anyway.”

Neither of them spoke for a good few minutes. Nothing but empty space, ebbing tension and unspoken words separating one boy from the other. No one budging, no one quite knowing how to continue.

So Dean was quite surprised when he felt the side of his mattress dip, as Castiel unfurled himself, crossed the no man’s land and tentatively settled on the edge of Dean’s bed.

“I don’t know what you think you ‘deserve’ Dean,” Cas spoke quietly, voice gravelling in his sternum, “seen as the incident wasn't actually your fault, but I didn't tell them anything.”

“Wait, ‘didn't’?” Dean let his gaze drop to Castiels’ profile. Cas fidgeted on the bedspread, rubbing a hand up and down his own arm.

“I may have already bumped into Mr Singer.”

Dean propped himself up on one elbow, waiting for the inevitable hammer blow.

“And?”

“And he was a little surprised to see me soaking wet, so I told him I’d gotten muddy playing football and decided to shower fully clothed to get the dirt off,” Castiel answered, puffing up proudly at his ‘ingenious’ cover story. He deflated somewhat as he remembered the rest. “Though I suspect he didn't believe me. For some reason he sent me to the nurses’ office...”

Dean rose to sit beside Castiel, relief coursing through his system. From his new vantage point he could see the boy more clearly, and quirked a smile when he spotted the answer to Castiels’ query.

“Yeah, I would've too if I’d seen the wicked shiner you've got growing there Novak,” Dean pointed to the side of Castiels face. From the glow of his window he could better make out the red mark lightly bruising the skin across his cheek, ghosting yet narrowly missing the crow of his eye. Castiel hissed, wincing as Dean brushed against a sore spot.

“Oh shit man, I’m so sorry! You ok? Did I hurt you?” Dean blustered, hands flustering around Castiels face, torn between trying to help and not hurting him again. Cas watched with some amusement; he’d become so used to the confident persona Dean usually exuded that watching him splutter and flap was equal parts fascinating and bewildering. Besides, it wasn't so much that Dean had hurt him – yes, the mark was sore, but nothing that Castiel hadn't already experienced that day. It was more the feel of the touch that had caused him to welp; like electricity had jumped between their skin and left a tingling warmth against his cheek. A strange sensation, not one that Cas has ever experienced before... but it was nice.

Dean had never seen Cas smile before.

“Dean, I’m fine. Really.” He rasped. Dean raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Ok, maybe not completely fine. But I’ll heal. So you can stop worrying.”

Dean nodded, willing to concede but not promising anything. Still, Dean felt a gnawing need to show the boy how sorry he was for everything that had happened. Glancing across Castiels frame, their new found proximity made it easy to see the shivers racing across his skin. Brow furrowed, he wondered how long Castiel had been in those damp clothes, as if the rising goosebumps covering his flesh wasn't telling enough. Without thinking, Dean pulled his duvet cover across Castiels shoulders, tucking it around his body much like when he used to put Sammy to bed. When he was done, all that remained was the crest of Castiels head, round eyes and wayward hair protruding from the top. Dean withheld a snort of laughter – he kind of looked like a startled owl.

“Stay put,” he commanded, getting up and striding across to the room with purpose, “I’m gonna find you some hot food or something, get it down you to warm you up. You’re not getting pneumonia on my watch Novak!” he added as he headed out the door.

“Hey Dean?” Castiel called, hoarse voice muffled by the duvet.

“Yep?”

“... call me Cas.”

Dean nodded as he left, a small smile growing as the door closed with a gentle click. Cas waited a beat before following suit, begrudgingly placing the warm blanket back on Deans bed – he wasn't entirely sure that their thawing relationship would survive him trekking Deans duvet through the camp, no matter how much it succeeded in warming him up.

Besides, he’d be back soon enough. He just had to make another phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Saturday kind of came and went (I blame an unscheduled trip to the hospital) so apologies for the delay! I have written an extra long chapter to hopefully make up for it :)
> 
> And thank you for the amazeballs comments I've received from you guys, they make me smile every day and I'm so happy you're enjoying this fic!
> 
> As always, comment and kudos if you like, and come find me at ooohesslimandalittlebitfoxy.tumblr.com ~ Elle x


	13. Pain in My Side

Convincing Lucifer not to drive out and get him was a hell of a lot harder than he initially anticipated. Cas was hoping the follow up call back home would only take a few minutes, leaving him enough time to sneak back into the cabin before Dean ever realised he’d gone, given how reluctantly Luce had wanted to come and get him in the first place. However, he was already half way down the highway by the time Cas managed to track him down; Luce would have to choose today of all days to feel charitable towards his siblings. Well, at least towards Castiel anyway – he couldn't be certain, but he was pretty sure he could hear Gabriel’s screams over the line.

Still, persuading Luce to hold back on his breakout attempt meant that Cas was outside longer than he intended to be. Or wanted to be, for that matter; he was out and out shivering as he crossed back towards his cabin, ribs achy and complaining, the afternoon sun doing nothing more than lighting his way. He scolded himself for not changing clothes sooner, for thinking that drying up would solve his problems. He tried to quell his shaking bones as he ascended the stairs, determined to rectify the situation before Dean ever found out...

“What part of ‘stay put’ did you not understand?!”

_Too late._

Cas gulped, shocked to the spot in the entrance of the doorway. He couldn't have been more than a minute or two behind Dean, surely? But apparently it was more than enough time for Dean to dissolve into a mild panic attack, breathing heavy and whirling on his roommate with a snap, food left abandoned in his wake.

_Fuck. That’s not good._

“Dean, I’m fine, seriously. I just had to go call my brother,” Cas soothed, hands up placatingly, trying to ignore the jolt in his ribs. He smiled, hoping to calm Deans fractious nerves, but the set of his jaw has he stalked towards him showed he was clearly having none of it.

“Knock it off Cas, you ain't fooling nobody,” Dean barked. Finding Cas gone had sent his heart into overdrive, the same wrenching terror he got that time he lost Sam at the supermarket. It wasn't much better now that he was back; all Dean could see was the goose pimples, the shudder of his skin, the way Cas lent against his left side, one arm drooping lower than the other.

Dean reached out towards the dark haired boy, determined to make him stay put and recover, dammit! He didn't expect Castiel to twist away from his outstretched hand. Hell, even Cas didn't expect to do it either; he just saw the hand coming and realised that if Dean got one finger on his skin he’d know how badly he had lied to him. OK, it was more ‘omitted certain truths’ rather than lied, but either way he didn't want Dean to add this to the ‘My Fault’ pile he seemed to have stacked in his head. So whilst his brain panicked, his body twisted.

And neither of them expected the pain that ripped through Castiel’s side as he did so.

Cas cried out, buckling at the knees. Hands flew to his ribs as if to stop the lightning searing his skin. Vision paling, his entire body focusing only on the white hot flash that scored his side as he fell down, down, down... Dean was on him in a heartbeat, catching Cas before he hit the deck. The tide of anger quickly turning to worry as his eyes settled on Cas’s face; scrunched up in pain, blanched, teeth clenched to hold back the river of swears Dean knew would be on his own lips if the situation were reversed. Pulling Cas into a more upright stance, he carefully guided the boy to his cot, thankful it was the one nearest the door, only daring to let him go once he had him perched upon the thinning mattress.

Bright green eyes were once again the first things Cas saw when his vision melted back into existence. _This is beginning to become a bit of a habit._ They kneeled just below him, probing him questioningly, wide enough that Cas could make out the flecks of gold embedded in the surface. He focused on them as he breathed, waiting for the pain to die down. Two hands stood sentry by his shoulders, as if expecting him to topple forward. _An excellent plan._

“Cas? Buddy, I’m gonna take a look at the damage ok? But I’ve gotta lift your shirt to do so. Nod if you comprende.”

It took a second for the request to sink in, and another to realise he couldn't get out of it; Dean, stubborn as he was, was standing his ground (figuratively speaking) and from the look in his eye it didn't look like Castiel was going anywhere till Dean had fixed him up good and proper.

Tiredly, Cas nodded. Dean set to work.

After gingerly prising Cas’s fingers from his side, Dean lifted the hem of his t-shirt to survey the damage. Bruising scattered Castiel’s chest like angry blossoming flowers, the centre of which bloomed like violets in spring. Zeroing in on the area Cas had been cradling, he gently but firmly pressed two fingers onto flesh. The tips tingled as he ran them along the structure of Castiel’s ribs, pausing only when they elicited a piss of pain from the boy above him. Dean carried on his examination attentively, trying to pay attention to weeding out potential breaks rather than how Castiel’s skin felt like ice.

Once finished, he tucked Cas’s shirt back into place, shaking his forearm to draw his gaze back to Dean.

“Nothing’s broken, but you've got some severe bruising across your upper torso. Side affect of CPR I’m afraid,” Dean relayed apologetically. “So you’ll be sore for a coupla days, but nothing a good night’s rest shouldn't help with. Speaking of which -” Dean strode across to Cas’s duffle as he talked, pulling out something flannel, before grabbing his own hoodie and placing them in Castiel’s lap “- put these on. I wasn't joking about the pneumonia.”

Cas waited for Dean to turn away before changing. Dean hadn't exactly barked the orders like he did before, but the tone implied that he’d do it for him if Cas refused. Still, he was grateful for it by the time he was ensconced in the newer, warmer, drier clothing, roasting nicely like a marshmallow within the lining of Dean’s ACDC hoodie (thankfully a size too big, making it easier to manoeuvre over his sore side). Although Dean wasn't fully satisfied till he had further wrapped him in a blanket and shoved a burger in his hand.

They munched on their dinner in relative silence, letting their nerves and heart rates settle between them. Dean allowed himself a small smile as he watched the boy opposite devour his food like a starving lion, moans salivating from between meat, cheese and buns.

“So how does a fifteen year old know how to do CPR?” Cas growled hoarsely, throat shredded by his earlier scream.

“Perk of working here – Bobby don’t let anyone off doing First Aid training, not even family,” Dean shrugged, smirking around his own burger. Cas nodded, mulling over his next question as he swallowed.

“And knowing how to check for broken bones too?”

“Yeah... that too.” Dean’s smile slipped as he spoke, not looking Castiel in the eye. Cas faltered, wondering if he’d hit a sore subject till Dean began to mutter.

“Not that they were any use...”

“Hey!” Cas snapped, bringing Deans eyes back to two pissed off blue ones. “Would you stop blaming yourself for what happened today? I wouldn't be here talking if it wasn't for you, so stop beating yourself up about it!” Cas’s chest rose dramatically as he forced his voice through sandpaper, determined to make Dean see sense of the situation. Having no comeback to his outburst, Dean stared back, waiting for the boy to continue. Which he did, to a lesser degree.

“It wasn't your fault that Meg pushed me in...”

“She’s sorry about that by the way,” Dean butted in. His mind reeled back to the foursome he left at the jetty, what seemed like eons ago now. He made a note to go check on them later. “She never would have done it if she’d known you couldn't swim...”

“Oh yeah, sure, she looked really sorry just standing there not doing anything.” Cas replied darkly, her stony face swimming in his mind’s eye. He failed to hold back the roar in his voice. “She didn't give a damn whether I lived or died!”

“Hey! She was scared out of her mind!” Dean snapped back defensively.

“How could you tell?”

“Because unlike you, I know her!” Dean bellowed, rendering Cas mute. Squeezing his eyes closed, Dean forced himself to calm down before continuing. He didn't want to argue with Cas. He just wanted him to understand.

“I – I know what she’s like. Like Rhonda said this morning, emotion isn't in Meg’s wheelhouse – unless you count sarcasm, a right hook and snarky humour that is.” He peeked a look at Castiel, who simply sat there, patiently listening.

“She hasn't had the best childhood in the world – not that that excuses what she did – but because of that she’s - she’s learnt to hide her feelings well over the years...” Dean tailed off, letting silence and assumptions linger in the air. “Besides, you off all people should know that not everyone is an open book.”

Any remaining resentment Cas had towards Meg slowly slipped through his fingers. Mulling over his words, Cas knew that Dean had made a rather excellent point, one that even he couldn't refute; Castiel had made assumptions about Dean and the girls just as quickly as they’d made assumptions about him. A week ago, he thought that Dean was a cocky, mightier-than-thou rule breaker. And that Meg just picked on him because she hated him. But now? Now that he knew more about these people? Now that he had taken the time to talk to them, no matter how the circumstances had come about?

Cas really needed to think a few things over.

Dean, with a cough, pulled Cas out of his musings (and the leftover tension from the room) with “I have a better question - how does a fifteen year old not know how to swim?”

Cas, to his chagrin, blushed. Turning to his abandoned burger, he distractedly ripped at the bun as Dean jokingly prodded him for answers, only succeeding in getting “Gabe” and “Jaws” as an answer.

“Tell you what Cas, why don’t a teach you how to swim?”

“You really don’t have to,” he muttered back, a well-known fear crawling into his eyes.

“But I want to.” Dean announced, undeterred by his roommates reluctance. “Consider it my way of making up the last week to you”

“Was saving my life not enough?” Cas joked, a small smile creeping at the corners of his mouth. Dean merely stared down his lack of appropriate response, holding it and holding it till eventually Castiel caved.

“...Ok Dean. If you insist, you... you can teach me to swim.”

And for the first time since he arrived at Camp Singer, Castiel felt content in the presence of Dean Winchester. As they finished their now-cold burgers in companionable silence, Castiel wondered whether, in this moment, buried deep within layers of duvet and hoodie, he could now label his relationship with Dean as ‘friends’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the angst between Cas and the gang finally over? Quite possibly so :)
> 
> Next chapter is Dean teaching Cas how to swim, so look forward to a future of fluff and fun!
> 
> Comment and kudos as per usual, and come find me at ooohesslimandalittlebitfoxy.tumblr.com for more SPN fics ~ Elle x


	14. My Little Fish

Whoever said ‘things will look better in the morning’ had clearly never suffered from a bad night’s sleep.

Despite having drifted off first (as per usual) Dean woke with a start around midnight, images of waves and creepy sea monsters crashing about in his head. Gasping, he threw himself out of bed, desperate to save Castiel from the villainous merpeople...

Only to find him, safe and sound, and fast asleep in his own bed.

_Lucky bastard._

Swearing fluently under his breath, Dean retreated back under the safety of his duvet, determined to ward off the cool air crawling up his legs. It was only when he shut his eyes against the protruding moonlight, snuggled down and waiting for sleep to take him that his brain decided to fire up again.

_Why didn't Cas wake up?_

Dean squeezed his eyes tighter, hoping to fend off the sneaky, lurking thoughts.

_You were pretty loud just now. He didn't even stir._

He really hated his mind sometimes. Cas is fine, he told himself, just a heavy sleeper. If he didn't stir whenever Dean threw pillows at his head then he wasn't going to wake up for anything...

_What if he’s dead?_

_That_ got his eyes open. His stomach dropped, the way it does when you’re out and suddenly wonder whether you locked the front door or not. Rolling slowly, he looked over at Cas’s sleeping form; the moonlight didn't reach far enough into the cabin, so Dean had a hard time even making him out, let alone seeing if his chest was rising or not.

Dean really, _really_ hoped his theory about Cas’s heavy sleeping was correct. Else he was gonna have some serious explaining to do.

Standing at the edge of Castiel’s bed in nothing more than a t-shirt and boxers, Dean leant over, careful not to touch him, and placed his head next to Castiel’s face - a move he'd practiced many, many time with his father whenever he'd been on one of his sessions. Dean hovered there like Tom Cruise in _Mission Impossible_ , pulse pounding in his throat, only daring to breathe when Cas’s breath tickled his cheek. His body sagged in relief. Satisfied that he wasn't sleeping in a mausoleum, he reeled back into an upright position and set off to bed. Where he was gonna stay and sleep, goddamnit!

_Sure, he’s alive. For now._

Awwww hell!

*~*~*

Sunlight streamed in through the window, particles dancing in its watery path. Dean startled as they hit his face, bleary and unfocused in the presence of the light. He yawned, stretched, rubbed his face, confused as to why he was sitting upright in his bed.

Then his eyes fell of the empty bed opposite. And it all came screaming back to him.

_Cas? Where is Cas?!_

“Good morning Dean.”

Dean froze, half in half out of his bed, trying for all the world not to look like he was about to projectile vomit his heart. Castiel stood in the bathroom doorway ( _because of course that’s where he was you idjit_ ) all rumpled and bed headed like a newly hatched bird. And unlike Dean he looked as if he’d managed to achieve some half decent sleep. Dean nodded happily, the sight of Cas quelling the fear that had kept him up all night; watching him sleep had been worth it. _Not that anyone was ever going to find out about that_.

He forced his ungainly pose to look as nonchalant as possible as Cas shuffled back into the room, groaning against the onslaught of daylight and drowsiness. At some point in the night he had shucked his bottoms, leaving him clad in only boxers and Dean’s ACDC hoodie. Coupled with a scrunchy face that read ‘I clearly don’t want to be awake right now’, it was probably the most adorable thing Dean had ever seen. He couldn't help but smile.

_So Cas ain't a morning person huh?_

_Wait... adorable??_

“Morning Cas!” Dean replied, voice entirely too chipper for this early hour. His mind raced back to the evening before, pre-nightmare and sentry duty. His smile widened. “Ready for that swimming lesson?”

Cas blinked down blearily at the boy in front of him. It took a second for his mind to catch up, wondering what the hell Dean was on about. Why would he agree to something like that, especially after everything that happened...

 _But I did, didn't I?_ He remembered with some reverence. Moaning despairingly, Cas turned away from the burning light, turned away from the boy with the gleam in his eye, and flopped majestically face down onto his own bed. Despite his protesting ribs, he hoped against hope that if he stayed there long enough, he wouldn't have to go through with it.

Dean picked up the pillow beside him and took aim. Cas wasn't getting out of it that easily.

*~*~*

“Remind me, why am I agreeing to do this?”

“Because you are fifteen years old. It’s high time you learnt how to swim!”

Cas sighed, unamusement written all over his face. Dean took off his top.

“You sound just like my mother when I was eight,” Cas sulked, refusing to follow suit.

“The all the more reason for you to do this,” Dean reiterated, smirk slowly slipping as he pitched his top over towards his shoes. It had taken the best part of an hour to wrestle Cas back up to the lake. The guy could really be stubborn when he wanted to be, and Dean had been reminded of the surprising strength the dark haired boy possessed. It was only the lure of coffee and cheeseburgers that had eventually got Castiel clothed and out of his bed.

As the cool morning breeze whipped at his face, Castiel wondered if he should’ve asked for more.

“Do I have to take my shirt off?” He tried, clutching at the hem of his cotton white tee. Dean sighed exasperatedly.

“Do you know who whines, Cas? Babies do.” Rather than taking off the shirt like Dean expected him to do, Castiel turned away, hardened stare scouring out the furthest reaches of the lake. Dean sighed, scratching the back of his neck. Maybe tough love wasn't the way to go about this.

“Look man, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be mean.” Cas glanced back, one eyebrow raised. “I’m not! It’s just...” Dean stepped forward, breeching the gap between them “...wearing layers whilst swimming is gonna make things ten times harder for you. All it’s gonna do is soak up water, get really heavy and drag you down. One problem at a time, yeah?”

He placed a hand on Cas’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, glad to feel warm instead of cold seeping through his skin. Turning back towards him, Cas squinted, scouring his face for signs of dishonesty. He came up empty, seeing nothing but truth and a wanting to help spread across those freckled features. Cas nodded, steeling himself.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!”

Dean charged down the jetty, wooden boards thundering beneath his feet. He liked to think he was giving Cas some privacy, but really, really, his heart sang for the cool embrace of the water. Dean loved to swim, always had, ever since his mom took him to toddler swimming classes. He may have only been little, but Dean could still remember her, golden hair fanning around her as she carved through the pool like a real life mermaid in his eyes. She would smile as he splashed towards her. Call him her ‘little fish’.

Her face filled his mind as he soared off the edge, a whooping cry as he tucked his legs and cannonballed into the blue. The cold slapped at his skin as he slowed, suspended in its infinite hold, enjoying the tang as the water soaked his skin. More refreshing than a cold shower on a hot day. Better than the strongest cup of coffee.

Dean broke the surface with a contented sigh, all the fears and the sleeplessness from the night before washed away. He turned, half expecting Cas to have followed him in. Instead, he’s chosen to wade his way in, clinging to the legs of the jetty, making snail’s pace progress as he did so. Dean in his impatience almost charged up to go get him, before quickly remembering that not everyone felt the same way towards the water as he did. Fear of the water made little sense to him, but he couldn't deny the badly stowed fear spreading across Castiels face. Couldn't deny the ugly purple bruises shining across Castiel’s surprisingly muscular chest, a stark reminder of what happened the last time he experienced the water.

So he waited. Waited as long as Castiel needed, pride swelling his chest for every footstep Cas took deeper into the lake. By the time Castiel reached his roommate, Dean was cheering, clapping a hand to Castiels heaving back in celebration.

“You made it Cas! You did it!” Dean crowed, unable to keep the wide ass smile off his face. Cas just managed to quirk one back, Dean’s jubilation infectious, before concentrating more on regaining his breath.

“So what do we do now?” He shivered.

“Hard part’s over Cas. Now we get your head underwater...”

“What?!” Cas blanched, reeling in horror. Dean grabbed for his shoulders to stop him running back to shore, mentally scolding himself for the blunt delivery.

“Calm it Cas! You’ll be fine I promise!” It was like trying to sooth a skittering horse. “We’ll do it together ok? I’ll be with you the whole time.”

Cas looked up at him suspiciously, as if Dean was trying to trick him. Seeing nothing, he closed his eyes, breathing deep, trying to think of home.

_Fuckitfuckitfuckitfuckitfuckit..._

Seizing the opportunity, Dean took one of Castiels clenched hands. Sensing no rebuttal, no shirking away, no flinching from the tips of his feather light fingers, he grabbed the other and gently propelled Cas towards a deeper part of the lake, soothing a thumb across paper white knuckles as he did so. When they were waist high, he stopped.

“You ready?” Dean whispered. Eyes still shut, Cas nodded, clasping at those calloused hands as if his life depended on it. Slowly, cautiously, carefully, Dean lowered Castiel down, watching him closely for any change of heart. Then, with a final note to take a breath, they submerged themselves under the water.

Cas’s eyes flew open in surprise, and for a moment he forgot about his fears. Transfixed at the aquatic world around him, he marvelled in the beauty he was unable to appreciate before; the gentle sway of the seaweed, the dancing bubbles around them, the way the undercurrents caressed their skin. Dean saw it in his eyes; the flicker of love he knew he held so dearly in his own. Dean squeezed Cas’s hand, steadying him, helping him stay down, giving him time to focus on adjusting to the situation. Cas’s gaze brushed his own, and it struck Dean how similar his eyes looked to the water around them.

He didn't know whether it was the tightening in Castiel’s lungs, or the realisation of what he was doing that sent him panicking. The eyes lost their wonder as dread began to fill them, and Dean let go of his hands, using them to guide Castiel back to the surface. Although in his haste Cas breathed a might before he was supposed to, leaving him a coughing, spluttering, but otherwise alive mess.

“Congrats Cas! You did it! Lesson one, the hardest part is over!” Dean smiled, thumping Cas between the shoulder blades.

“I thought – you said – getting in – was the hardest part?” Cas huffed out between wheezes, bent double, water running rivets down his back.

“I lied. I do that sometimes.” He replied, cocking an eyebrow in Cas’s direction. “Would you have done it if I hadn't?”

After a beat, Cas conceded, shaking his heading. In truth, he wasn't even mad that Dean had lied; in fact, something akin to joy and pride was spreading through his heart.

He did it. He faced his fears.

He was quite ready for a sit down right about now.

A splash of water hit him in the face. Cas rose. Dean stood a little way away, palms dipped in the water, grinning mischievously.

“Lesson two – swimming is supposed to be fun. Let’s see if we can get that stick outta your ass Novak!”

Cas couldn't help it. A taunt like that? That challenge? It was like the fencing ring all over again. The sun continued to rise as Cas charged at Dean, great swells of water crashing between them, droplets cascading through the sky as they battled, casting tiny rainbows as they went.

Castiel hadn't laughed that hard in ages.

*~*~*

It was nearly lunchtime before either of them thought to head back to camp. But the promise of cheeseburgers was beginning to weigh heavily of Castiels stomach, and even Dean admitted they sounded great right about now. Besides, if they didn't show their faces soon, Bobby and Ellen would begin to suspect something, and Dean had far too many lesson plans in mind to scupper their chances now.

However, they’d barely touched one soggy foot down on camp ground when they heard a screech. A scrawny blur streaked past Dean, and Cas ended up winded with a face full of red hair.

“You bitch! Where the hell have you been?” Charlie cried, arms clasped tightly around his neck. Cas stood there, stunned, arms flopping uselessly at his sides. Dean almost doubled over laughing at the shock on Castiels face until Jo punched him dead in the arm.

“You fucker! You could’ve told us Cas was ok. We were worried sick!” she barked at her cousin, giving Dean no sympathy as he rubbed his future bruise. Instead she sent it to Cas as she tried to pry her roommate off of him.

“Cas, we’re so, so sorry for yesterday.” She implored over Charlie’s head “If we’d have known, we never would have -”

“It’s fine, Jo, really.” Cas spluttered through mouthfuls of hair. Charlie disengaged when he finally patted her back, throwing him a watery smile as she hitched up her glasses. He continued his affirmations as Rhonda swooped in with a “You ok, sugar?” which was surprisingly gentle. She even ruffled his hair. Jo, somewhat sated, smiled over at him, Charlie cradled in the crook of her arm. Dean stood beside them all, a proud mother hen as his fledglings joined together. The whole situation had the makings of a Hallmarks card until Rhonda pulled away to reveal Meg, just standing there, looking as tough as nails despite the Camp shirt and gym shorts.

They all stepped aside as Cas walked towards her, taking the warmth of the group with him. With baited breath he waited for the anger to rise, to flurry through his chest and spill fire from his tongue. Instead, Dean’s words ran soothingly through his mind. As he closed the gap between them, he began to notice little things about her; the way her hands clenched up, finger picking at the skin on her thumb, just like his did when he was nervous. The way her face paled whiter than her normal complexion. They way her cheek hollowed as she bit it, her dark eyes betraying only the tiniest, mere fragment of fear as he stopped right in front of her. She may have looked emotionless from the outside, but on the inside? A well held together mess.

Just like... well, just like everybody else.

“You don’t have to say it, Meg,” he said, cutting her pain before it had time to start.

The anger never came. Cas couldn't do that to her. He knew well what it was like to fear something, and knew what it was like to have that fear lifted from you. He didn't want to be the thing she feared for one second longer.

“I forgive you.”

Relief swam back into their little circle with an audible sigh. Meg smiled the first real, genuine, human smile he’d seen from her since they first met on the bus, before gently punching him in the arm. It made his heart soar.

“You’re alright for a nerd... Clarence.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas's first swimming lesson AND a uniting of friendships? I feel like I've spoilt you all haha :)
> 
> More fun and frolics to come, if you've been enjoying this fic so far please comment and kudos!
> 
> Or come find me at oooheslimandalittlebitfoxy.tumblr.com if you fancy requesting some SPN fics yourself ~ Elle x


	15. Very Harry Potter-eque!

Cas found himself settling into a new, more enjoyable routine over the following week, one that almost made him forget the previous had ever existed; instead of stomping out the cabin before Cas ever stirred, Dean had taken to rousing him from his bed each morning. Much to his delight, Cas was _so_ not a morning person, and watching the sleepy scowl greet him every morning only spurred Dean to gleefully come up with new ways to rouse his bunk mate – tickling, jumping on his bed, even straight ripping his covers off sent Dean into fits as Cas threw him his best death stare, the effect somewhat hampered by sleepy dust and epic bed head.

Turns out Cas knew more swear words than Dean thought possible.

Still, Cas enjoyed the walk down to the mess hall a lot more now that he had some company, and could forgive Dean his shenanigans when presented with coffee. It always perked him up just in time to begin his conversations with Charlie, who had permanently shot gunned the seat next to him at breakfast. Their debates over books and other ‘nerdy’ topics always had the others groaning, not yet conscious enough to fully appreciate their energy and animation. Even Dean at his most awake shook his head as he watched them – how Cas could go from almost comatose to wired in such a short space of time was beyond him. _Like watching the goddamn Duracell bunny._

But it made Dean smile, seeing how much happier Cas was now; as if the clouds had lifted to reveal twinkling blue eyes and a gummy grin he didn't realise he’d been missing. Even Bobby and Ellen had noticed the difference in Cas. They were happy, content in the knowledge that he didn't need their watchful eye anymore, and even more to discover that Dean didn't either. Smiling fondly at them both, Ellen turned away from the mess hall, off to ready the camp for the day’s activities. Bobby stomped along beside her, beseechingly pushing a twenty into her hand. She threw a knowing smirk his way.

“Told ya they’d be fine, old man.”

Once breakfast was thoroughly consumed, the girls took it in turns to pull Cas along to one of their chosen activities; Monday found him doing photography with a very excitable Charlie. Not that he got to go anywhere near the equipment – Charlie apparently had a ‘vision’ in mind that somehow involved Cas being the perfect model. Still, he couldn't rebuff her, not when she pleaded so brilliantly – fluttery eyes, pouty bottom lip, the works – but he did begin to question her sanity when she started directing his poses:

“Ok, so look at the sky, like it’s confusing to you... BT-dubs when I say ‘confusing’ I don’t mean constipated.”

“Channel your inner regalness! Think Legolas, think – oh blerg! Maybe not. Think Gimli instead...”

“Now sway! Sway like a willow tree, like Harry and H in the Deathly Hallows, like -”

“– Like a leaf on the wind?”

“NODON’TSAYIT!”

Jo decided Cas should try out archery with her on Tuesday. If he were Jack Sparrow when fencing (at least he liked to think of himself as Jack. In reality he was more Commodore Norrington) then she was Tauriel – fast, focused and ferocious with a bow and arrow in her hand. She took no prisoners out there on the field and left her opponents in the dust. But as a teacher she was patient and gentle, guiding Cas through the correct stance and draw techniques. He soon had bruising lining his arms to replace the ones on his chest, and a goofy grin when he realised he’d hit more than he’d missed. Dean couldn't help but smile when Cas came back that night – his roommate had regressed to an feverish five year old, and it was kind of adorable.

Bobby had Dean off helping him fix the showers on Wednesday, so the day started off rather cloudy for Cas. Even though his early morning debates with Charlie proved a comforting distraction, he felt Dean’s lack of presence at the table like a hole in his chest, even if he couldn’t work out exactly _why_. Much to his surprise, Ellen collared him and asked if he’d mind helping out with tutoring some of the younger kids in the fencing ring. After nearly a decade of being taught how to fence, he found it rather thrilling to teach the eager young minds everything he knew about the sport. Watching as they molded from merely trying to jab each other’s eyes out to strong, poised (as much as ten year olds could be) mini-athletes under his tutelage made his chest burst with pride. There was some real potential talent in his little group – raw fencing skill was apparently an inherent Winchester trait.

The end of the week left him in the capable hands of Rhonda and Meg, who between them were in charge of the small team creating the costumes and makeup for the Camp theatre production of Grease that year. Which meant, Cas found out a might too late, that he was to be their practice mannequin. Considering how many times he’d been manhandled by Meg in the short time he’d known her, she was surprisingly careful where she stuck her pins as she adjusted yet another leather jacket around him; he briefly wondered whether she’d mellowed thanks to their truce until she punched him in the shoulder for fidgeting. But he didn't complain too much – if there was one thing he’d learnt about Ms Masters recently, it was that mild violence was her way of showing she liked you. Rhonda, on the other hand, was feather light with her hands, deftly applying creams and powders to Cas’s face at a speed he didn't think possible. He ended up back at the cabin with his hair all quaffed and eyes surrounded by black liner. Dean had nearly wet himself laughing before ruffling his hair to bring it back to its former glory.

“Not saying Rhonda did a bad job or nothing, but you look better this way,” he’d said with tears streaming down his face. He didn't mention anything about the eyeliner though; just gulped when he spotted it and busied himself with something in his trunk. Even Cas had to admit, when he spotted it later, that it didn't look half bad on him.

And whenever they thought they could risk it, the boys snuck off to the lake for Cas’s continued swimming lessons. Sometimes the girls bunked off activities too, sunbathing and watching them from the comfort of the bank, but secretly he liked it best when it was just the two of them; if he could limit the amount of people who saw his laughable attempts at trying not to drown, the better. It had been slow going at first, what with over a decade’s worth of fear to try and overcome, but he felt like he was making progress - he didn't mind his head going underwater so much anymore, and they'd moved from doing breaststroke to something called a 'front crawl'. Dean even joked about getting him to jump off the pier, which was met with swift and severe discouragement on Castiels behalf. Half the time he felt like he was floundering, but whenever he looked up Dean was always there, smiling and shouting encouragements his way. The other half was spent watching his instructor demonstrate the perfect execution of a move Cas was struggling with, the afternoon sun made his hair shine like spun gold, droplets clinging to his bronzed skin sparkled like diamonds... Cas would find himself getting lost in the overall beauty, forgetting that the act of swimming was essentially keeping him afloat. The water would eventually remind him by going down his throat, and Dean would chide him for not concentrating on the task at hand. Blushing, he would strive to keep his eyes off the allure that was Dean’s forearms as they cut through the water, thankful the water went up to his waist.

If Cas was perfectly honest with himself, those stolen moments were quickly becoming his favourite time of day.

*~*~*

Where Dean thrived during the daytime, Cas was definitely made for the night; the boys had come to a compromise when it came to Cas’ reading situation. Or more truthfully, Dean had come back the morning after the Light Bulb Incident and chucked him a torch. It may have narrowly missed his head, but in retrospect it was the thought that counted.

Hiding under the covers to carry out his reading, however, that was all Cas’ idea. Truth be told, he wondered why he had never thought to it before; it was so warm and cosy under the duvet, the darkness causing Cas forget that the world around him even existed. Plus, it dimmed the torchlight enough so that it wouldn't disturb Dean’s precious slumber. In fact, Cas had become so engrossed in the adventures of his latest book thanks to this innovating method that he failed to notice Dean lifting up the entrance to his little domain. When he did he jumped, yelping and nearly hit Dean with the butt of his torch.

“Jesus, you scared me!” Cas breathed, heart racing in his ears.

“Sorry man!” Dean chuckled, wiping the grin from his face. He couldn't help it, Cas’ face was priceless – _where was Charlie and her camera when you needed her?_

“I love the cave set-up you've got going on in here – all very ‘Harry Potter’-esque.” Dean continued, peering around the hidey hole, eyebrows raised in appraisal. His gaze fell upon the book cradled between Cas’ crossed legs. His brow furrowed.

“You still working through that _Monte Cristo_ book?”

“No, I finished that ages ago.” Cas replied without thought. Up went Dean’s eyebrows.

“Jesus Cas, how many books is that now? Three? Four?”

Cas gulped. _Five, actually._

“Oh, only a couple.” Cas tried to say as nonchalantly as possible. Judging from the look Dean was giving him, he didn't believe him. Intrigued, Dean gently lifted up one side of the book to see what was gonna keep Cas up all night this time.

“ _The Princess Bride_ , huh? As in the Inigo Montoya, ‘You killed my father, prepare to die’ Princess Bride?”

Cas, relieved Dean wasn't going to make fun of his inherent nerdiness, chuckled – the impression really was rather good.

“The very same. You've read it?”

“No, watched the movie though. Well, most of it, when I could catch it. I liked it.”

Excitement built up in Cas’ chest; he loved it when the opportunity came round to introduce people to books he loved. It wasn't an opportunity he got often, mores the pity, and previously his excitement had actually put people off reading his recommendations. So he tried to contain it as much as possible.

“You think the movie was good, you should definitely read the book! It's so cool, it's got sword fights and vengeance, giants and princesses and a man with six fingers...”

Safe to say, he failed dismally.

His enthusiasm faded as a maelstrom of emotions passed over Dean’s face; Cas watched as the initial light of excitement was doused by trepidation, his momentary wanting quickly shrivelled as Dean’s shoulders curled in on themselves. Disheartened, Cas wondered why Dean was holding himself back.

“I would, but my dad... we’re on the road a lot... Sammy...” Excuse after excuse died on Dean’s tongue until all that was left was mildly awkward silence. He shuffled on the spot, hands wedged deep into his pockets as Cas waited patiently to see if he’d continue. He tried to catch Dean’s eye, but his gaze had become fixed to the floor.

Cas suddenly realised, despite the friendship they'd managed to kindle over the past week, that he didn't actually know a whole lot about Dean Winchester. Sure he knew the simple things - that he liked fast food, was a great swimmer and could fix anything with a hammer or wrench. That he would happily share anything he owned except his precious walkman, and woe betide anyone who dissed the rock and roll it played. That he loved his brother fiercely, and his aunt, uncle and friends too - but his life outside camp? Want he liked to learn at school? His parents, who Cas had wondered about for a while, but was always too afraid to ask?

_Maybe you should just start asking._

“...Would you like to read it with me?”

Back came the eye contact. Cas couldn't quite gage the look in his eyes thanks to the half dark, but it looked a little like... shock? Surprise? His heart nearly broke when he twigged what it was – it was the look of a guy who, in all his years of being told what to do, had never really been asked what he would _like_ to do.

So Cas scooched onto his belly, made more room on his bed, and waited patiently for Dean to decide.

After a beat, Dean joined him, his body thrumming with anticipation. He’d never admit it, but he was weirdly looking forward to reading this book; the guy on the cover looked badass, all dressed up and masked and wielding a sword, and he never got the chance to do this sort of thing before - reading and enjoying reading was more Sammy's area, and it was not a hobby their father really pushed to instill in his children. Yet here he was, like a kid in a candy shop, like Sammy in a library, so excited he didn't even care about the lack of space under the duvet-fort. And Dean was a guy who liked his space.

But there was something about lying on this bed, stretched out next to Cas, their sides flush against each other that Dean found oddly comforting. Easy, even. He hadn't realised he was grinning till he looked back at Cas and saw a matching one staring back in return. They lay there for a moment, foreheads a fraction away from touching, the warmth and smell of Castiel filling the cavern around him. Those baby blues held him, entranced. He couldn’t look away. Dean wasn't sure he wanted to look away. But he did, startled when Cas flipped the pages of his book back to the beginning again.

“You really don’t need to Cas!”

“Dean, it is nonsensical to make you start a book from the middle.”

“But you’ll be rereading the bits you've already read.”

“You think this is my first time reading this book?” Cas laughed, thumbing the dog eared corners for good measure. He softened, almost whispering as Dean looked to protest, “I don’t mind. Honestly.”

Nodding, unsure but somehow placated, Dean finally turned his attention to the adventures of Wesley and Buttercup. A comfortable silence descended over their little nest, broken only by the crackle of flicking pages. Only when soft, snuffled snores filtered from between Castiel’s lips did Dean fall out of story world, happy in the knowledge that he was, for once, the last one to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long for the extra wait :)
> 
> Comment and kudos if you're enjoying this fic! And thank you for all your wonderful comments so far! 
> 
> Just to keep you updated, there's going to be approximately 24/25 chapters in this fic in total - so we've still got some fun and frolics to come :) ~ Elle x


	16. Peace Out Bitch!

There was a book stuck to the side of Dean’s face.

Groaning, he rolled, yawned, stretched, and tried everything in his ‘urgh it’s too early to even be a little bit awake’ state, trying to dislodge the pages that were tugging at his cheek. He couldn't remember exactly what time he fell asleep the night before, but apparently it was somewhere between pages 26 and 30. Not that his sluggish brain was up to recalling exactly where the book came from, or why Dean was even reading it.

Although it all came racing back to him about 2 seconds later, when the sunlight hit his eyes from the wrong side of the room; it was Castiel’s book. Which he’d been reading in Castiel’s bed. With... he turned slowly back around... yep, with Castiel himself.

The covers had fallen away during the night, allowing the early morning glow to dance across his sleeping partners form; curled up like a cat, Cas's nose was pressed into the crook of his arm, shallow breaths drifting up to ruffle the feather edges of his hair, batting at the whirling dust particles as it did so. Dean swallowed, hard and thick, frozen in place like a deer caught in the headlights. Out of everything he’d pictured happening when they’d first become bunk mates, this was far and beyond the furthest thing from his mind. Dean was the kind of guy who would rather take the lumpy sofa over top-and-tailing with his own brother, yet here he was literally sleeping face to face with a guy he’d only known a handful of weeks, trying not to breathe in case it disturbed Cas’s slumber. The strangest thing was, despite the fact nothing sordid had happened last night (Dean had double checked his clothes were still on to make sure) he’d been comfortable enough to allow himself to stay in his bed in the first place. He didn't even stay in his girlfriends’ houses overnight, and they usually had the promise of more carnal activities to keep him there!

 _Relax_ he told himself, his thundering heart trying to heave from his chest. _This doesn't mean anything. Cas won't think it means anything. This was more like a... sleepover. Yeah! Like when you were little - a friendly sleepover. A sleepover with your friend Cas!_

Nodding determinedly, more to convince himself than anyone else, Dean tried to work out how best to proceed with the situation – would it be more or less awkward to stay put? What if Cas woke up as Dean was attempting to leave? What if Dean thinking this was all weird made Cas think it was all weird too?! But Cas slept on, oblivious to Dean’s internal struggle, _the bastard_. His gentle snuffled snores simply continued to waft in the air between them, lulling his thoughts, sweeping the worries away as Dean’s eyelids began to grow heavy.

And as his racing mind slowed to mild rocking stop Dean sighed, head warm and heavy and inching back towards the pillow.

_Maybe just five more minutes..._

*~*~*

It was probably the greatest thing Charlie had ever seen. Greater than Hogwarts. Greater than the extend edition Lord of the Rings trilogy.

She totally didn't even mean to see it; all she was going to do was remind Cas to bring his copy of Zorro down to breakfast for her to borrow (because apparently she never packs enough books to read). And now she was standing in their open doorway – door having swung open of its own volition - shocked to the spot by her bunny slippers and trying not to fan girl.

Cas and Dean were curled up on the bed together like two little apostrophes, with nothing but a slip of mattress to separate them. Gawping, she thanked every deity that they were fully clothed, meaning she could drink in all the adorableness without needing to cover her eyes – like when Cas shuffled as he slept, snuggling down into the covers like a precious newborn kitten. A squeal of delight squeaked out before she could stop it. Hands flew to clamp her mouth shut as it resonated in the silence around them as she stood stock still, trying her best not to sound like Darth Vader (no matter how tempting it was) and praying to Tolkien that she’d got away with it.

And she nearly did too. Until sandy hair and barely open eyes peeked out at her from the top of the duvet.

_Busted!_

Credit where credit was due, the boy was fast; despite the significant distance advantage Charlie had as she bolted, leaving nothing but a Cheshire cat grin in her wake, Dean managed to catch her before she’d even hit the wood chip. Any other day she would have done the math (because seriously, cardio much?) but her mind was fixated on more important things - such as her favourite real life OTP maybe possibly becoming canon before her very eyes. Dean skidded in front of her, breathless, a smudge of ink stamped across his cheek. Charlie giggled; she didn't think his blush was down to physical exertion.

"It's not what it looks like!" Dean scrabbled, hands held out in surrender, his voice wavering around two octaves higher than usual.

"Oh my God are you two -?”

“Charlie wait...”

“Did you two -?”

“Charlie keep your voice down...”

“Don’t you dare deny me or spare me of details Winchester! Spill, bitch, spill!" Charlie alternated between waving her hands and slapping them against his shoulder, almost vibrating with excitement as she danced around in front of him. Dean was finding it hard to focus on anything she was saying, given that there was waaaaaay too much energy for this hour of the morning.

"Ow! What? NO! We didn't - we just slept! In the same bed..."

"Oh my God!" Her eyes went wide as saucers. _Shit! Backtrack! BACKTRACK!_

"No not like that! I mean... we were reading a book together last night and must have just... passed out or something." Dean finished, exhausted. He’d been watching her face as he talked, eyes raking it carefully as the excitement fell in dribs and drabs, all wild movements stilling as the truth of his words settled in her mind. Dean dared to hope that she would let it go, that she would decide the situation wasn't as juicy as it looked, only letting out a breath as her shoulders slowly slumped in forlorn disappointment. Then she "awwwww’d" at the last sentence, and Dean knew he wasn't going to win this battle.

The proverbial war, however, was still up for grabs.

"Look, Charlie, just... don't tell anyone, ok? Not Meg, not Rhonda, not J- especially not Jo! Nothing happened, got it?" The last few words punctuated by the point of Dean's finger, thrown Charlie's way in an enforcing manner. Coupled with an overly stern expression and a foot height advantage, Dean liked to think he was forceful enough to be taken seriously. Whether or not any of it covered the pleading tone in his voice was another matter.

But instead of the repeated assurances he was after – “of course not Dean, I won't tell a soul Dean, this'll stay between you and I Dean” - Charlie just smiled sweetly up at him, unmoved, the picture of angelic innocence in flannel pj bottoms and a Star Wars t-shirt. It was the kind of sweet smile that a cat typically gives a mouse as it 'let's' it go.

"Sure, whatever you say Dean," she singsonged, before proceeding to skip away. Dean gawped, watching her go; her hair flashed back at him, beautiful but dangerous. He managed to catch himself before she disappeared from sight, before he lost his chance to ensure her silence.

"Charlie! I mean it!"

"I won't say a word! A lady never breaks her promise!" She returned cheerfully, zipping her lip and throwing the key. “Peace out bitch!” With that, Charlie headed back to her cabin, leaving Dean in her dust, floundering in the chilly morning light. Maniacal laughter filled her mind as she rounded the corner.

_Course I won’t say anything. Doesn't mean I can't write it down though..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M BAAAAAAACK!
> 
> Sorry my darlings for the break, my body utterly failed me in April, I've been so ill its actually ridiculous :(
> 
> But in my absence I've handwritten the next few chapters, so expect regular, weekly updates for the forseeable future.
> 
> As always, kudos and comment if you enjoyed this fic, and come find me at ooohesslimandalittlebitfoxy.tumblr.com if you'd like to request your own SPN fanfic ~ Elle x
> 
> PS: Thank you to Castielwinchestar for suggesting the idea for this chapter! I had so much fun writing it and, after what happened in the latest SPN episode, I think we needed a little Charlie fluff :)


	17. Welcome to the Dark Side

Sometimes even the best of intentions don't go according to plan.

After throwing himself back into his own bed (instantly missing the warmth and comfort of his previous sleeping place – nothing like getting into a cold bed on a cold day after all!) Dean was determined to restore normal social boundaries between himself and his friend. Which was a little more difficult than initially anticipated; he and Cas apparently had very different opinions on what they classed as 'normal'.

Cas's tendencies towards closeness had never really bothered Dean before today - whether it was the way their shoulders touched as they stood at the breakfast line, or how their elbows brushed each other as they walked - but with the niggling feeling of eyes following his every move he couldn’t help but worry, stress and otherwise scrutinise every single inch that was or wasn’t between them. Which led to Dean making an overly conscious effort to keep at least three feet between him and any part of Cas’s anatomy, all whilst trying to act as normal as humanly possible.

And apart from a confused, squinty stare from those baby blues when he yelped and jumped away from an arm graze, Dean thought he’d got away with it.

His only reprieve had come in the form of Cas’s swimming lesson, where the guy still had a tendency to nearly drown himself every other day; Dean had made that mistake once - _Never again_ – and so allowed himself to push, propel and otherwise touch any part of Cas’s upper body that would help keep him above water. In small doses of course. But after a whole day of essentially looking over his shoulder (was Jo looking at him as she whispered to Meg? Did Rhonda just point at him from across the fencing ring?) Dean was far too tired to complain when later that evening, as he laid on top of his bed - freshly washed, headphones in place,  _The Princess Bride_ splayed open on his lap - Cas decided to kneel across the bow of Deans legs.

It was, however, ever so slightly distracting, the pressure of shin on shin sending warmth and tingles through his lower body. Not unpleasant, but after rereading the same passage three times without anything sinking in Dean decided he needed to say something. The book closed with a _thwump_ as he stared curiously at its owner, who to 'mix things up' that evening was staring avidly out of the window. At the sound Cas turned to face him, forgetting to lower his binoculars.

"Cas, what the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" he answered Dean's left eye. Where others would have said it in a ‘duh you idiot, isn’t it obvious?’ kind of way, Cas was genuinely curious as to what Dean thought he could possibly be up to. It was quite... endearing, really. That, coupled with the realisation that this was the first time anyone outside his family had asked what he thought about something (and even that list was limited to his brother, aunt and uncle) suddenly made it very difficult for Dean to look him in the eye. Only when the silence began to leak out the walls did Dean remember that he was supposed to answer.

"I dunno, peeping in through owls windows?" he shrugged, quirking a mischievous smile Cas's way as he lowered his headphones to around his neck. Cas lowered his binoculars at the same time, a bitchy 'Dean, please' spread all over his face. _Well, somebody's been taking tips from my little brother._

"I'm bird watching, Dean" Cas replied in a dramatic, hushed whisper, as if his barely concealed excitement would disturb the nearby wildlife. Dean didn’t have the heart to ask him what kind of ‘bird’ he meant – innuendo, he had learnt, wasn’t exactly Cas’s strong suit. “I thought I heard a Three Toed Woodpecker call last night, so I’m trying to get a look at it tonight!”

“... Why?”

“Because it’s kind of a big deal; it’s an incredibly rare species around these parts, so if I spot it I’ll be the first in my club to do so.”

“I see.” Dean said, in the vague sort of way that meant he didn’t really at all. Then Cas’s previous statement hit him upside the head.

“Hold up, you can identify birds by the way they sound?”

“Of course.” Funny which statements Cas chose to say obviously.

Dean could only nod as Cas turned back towards the window, visibly wiggling in anticipation. Dean smiled softly to himself; not that he’d ever admit it to anyone, but he’d come to enjoy Cas’s little quirks over time – stuff that used to annoy the bejesus out of him now simply flew right on by, occasionally eliciting a fond shake of the head, a “you dork” not far from his lips. Dean had put it down to them becoming friends, but sometimes, lord knows why, Cas would do something so completely Cas-like it would cause his heart to flutter.

Like right fucking now, for example.

Dean shook his head thoroughly, trying to push the weird heart stuff to the back of his mind. _It’s nothing. Nothing nothing nothing_ he thought to himself, thumbing through pages to find his spot (because God forbid he fold a corner to mark his where he’d got to – one irksome quirk of Cas’s that wasn’t quite so endearing). Lucky Cas was otherwise occupied this evening, cos it meant that Dean was able to ignore it and read his book. Besides, Dean shrugged nonchalantly; Cas was keeping his tootsies warm.

Cas stared out into the corpse of the woods as Dean got lost in the story, brow furrowed in absolute concentration and dedication to his task. Diligently moving his binoculars from branch to branch, he threw himself into scouring out this elusive bird. _Crack!_ His ears pricked as a rustle to the left caught his attention, breaking the natural silence of the forest. Close, he thought, practically falling out of the window in his aim to get nearer. _Snap!_ Cas twisted to the right, zeroing in on a small, low bush. _Could it be...?_ Straining through the lenses, he leaned further, nearer, closer, desperate to seek out the creature –

“CAW CAW MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Castiel screamed at a pitch so high it defied the usual gravel of his voice, lunging away from the leafy beasts that filled his binoculars. Dean nearly wet himself as Cas tumbled, legs akimbo, off the side of the bed, disappearing from view with a resounding thump. A soft ‘oof’ came soon after, the binoculars having been saved by his stomach. The look of betrayal that Cas threw his way when he popped back up, scowling like a ragamuffin meerkat, only made Dean roar harder, clutching his stomach like his life depended on it.

A peel of giggles floated down towards the boys from the open window, a hastily torn piece of paper following in its wake. Cas barely had a chance to turn his laser scowl towards the noise before the note smacked him in the face.

 _‘Clarence and Deano,’_ Dean read, hiccupping as he plucked the page off Cas’s glare.

_Party, our cabin, 20 minutes. Entry requirement is 6 beers minimum._

_You know the way, I’m not fucking Google Maps!_

_Meg, Jo ~~anne~~ , Rhonda and ~~Strawberry Shortcake~~ Charlie!’_

“Not much for poetry, is she?” Cas noted as Dean finished reading aloud.

“That’s Meg for ya – put up or shut up” He shrugged down at Cas, still on the floor, hardwood turning his bum numb. Folding the note away, Dean smiled his ‘I have a cunning plan’ smile before bouncing off the bed, offering out a hand to pull his friend up.

“Do you trust me?”

Cas didn’t even have to think about it.

“Yes. Yes I do.”

 

*~*~*

 

"No"

"Yes"

... No!"

"Yes!"

"You, Castiel Novak, Mr Nerdy Nerd extraordinaire, were part of a prank that ended up burning down a building?!"

"Believe it 'cause it’s true!" Cas smiled goofily over at an awestruck Jo, leaning backwards confidently until he toppled over; he certainly wasn’t drunk yet, but beer number three – four? – was helping him on his way. Under the circumstances, Cas was surprised as to how well he was fairing during this, his first proper teenage party; usually he’d have been wary of these kind of situations – years of being picked on and ‘jokingly’ being invited to things by the popular crowd at school had led to him developing a sixth sense for such things – but numbing limbs and a fuzzy head made any cares he had wash away.

They’d acquired the entry requirement beers by sneaking into Bobby and Ellen’s cabin for (well, Dean snuck, Cas kept lookout. Dean, it turned out, was quite the gymnast) before tiptoeing on towards Meg, Jo, Rhonda and Charlie’s cabin, only stopping to hush the clanking bottles that they’d stowed about their persons – a skill Cas had quickly learnt that Dean was proficient in; it was remarkable as to how many bottles Dean could stuff down his pants. The quiet was short-lived however, as upon their arrival the door swung open with a shriek, a burst of out of tune singing barrelling out to greet them.

“Welcome to the dark side!” Charlie had proclaimed wildly, twig filled hair flying everywhere as a tray of treats was shoved precariously close to their noses. “Cookie?”

Now the group were sitting on the hardwood floor of the girls cabin, music warbling its way around their little circle; nothing Cas recognised, but then his upbringing hadn't exactly been Top 40 orientated. Whatever it was, the music was light and poppy, the seemingly perfect accompaniment to raucous laughter and alcohol. And by the time it was his turn on Truth or Spin the Bottle (no one could remember which game they were supposed to be playing) he had quite enough of both in his system.

Still, swaying lazily on his cushion, a sense of pride washed over Cas as he took in the shocked, amused and impressed faces around him - despite what his outward exterior might suggest, he was actually quite partial to the occasional outlandish prank (there was something about the planning stage that just appealed to Cas's sensibilities), a fact that only Gabe knew and liked to use to its fullest potential. Hence why, even though he helped purchase, sneak in and set up the fireworks around the roof of his previous camp’s mess hall, as well as being a diligent look out whilst Gabe lit them, no one ever suspected him of having anything to do with it.

But Cas supposed that’s just what happened when everyone thought you were an innocent nerd.

Still, Cas decided, as he stared through languid eyes at the boy sat next to him, that he wouldn’t have had it any other way. If Gabe hadn’t have been kicked out from the other camp (and his parents strongly advised to find another camp for the rest of their boys) then he never would have ended up here; surrounded by friends, with a beautiful guy propped up on one elbow, a scant few inches from Cas’s shoulder, his apple shampoo fresh against the fug of stale hops and sweet chasers.

_Note to self – remember to thank Gabe one day._

The beer/Kahlua combination Dean was chugging seemed to have loosened him up a bit too; he’d been unusually wound all day, and when Cas, concerned, had nudged him to ask what was up Dean had pretty much jumped out of his skin. But now here he was, as if nothing had been wrong, the warmth of his shoulder radiating through Cas’s shirt. _What was up with that?_ His mind wandered briefly, before deciding that he was too buzzed to care.

Cas was brought out of his warm, fuzzy musings by a determined, pointed cough; Charlie had clearly decided that story time was over.

“My turn my turn!” she cheered gleefully, before draining her beer, setting it down with a clunk and spinning it. Then again after its collision with the previous bottle. Cas tracked its’ haphazard progress, growing dizzy, watching it go round and round and round until –

“DEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAN!” they all chorused, loudly and wildly out of sync. Grinning proudly through a mouthful of beer (which totally didn’t dribble out the side of his mouth) Dean lifted his chin, daring the redhead to do her worst. He didn’t need the choice of options; tonight he was the King of Dares, ready to do, say or strip anything they threw his way. The room waited with bated breath. Charlie stared him down, stroking her beard (both the metaphorical and the one she’d drawn on two rounds earlier).

“I dare you... to kiss Cas!”

“Oooooooo!” echoed the circle, all eyes turning towards the boys. Even Cas joined in teasingly, until the words eventually filtered through his brain.

_Wait. What?_

“Charlie, you’re a genius!”

“I know,” she responded, nodding at Jo with feigned regal solemness, “it’s a real problem.”

 _Is it hot in here?_ Cas sweated, staring feverishly at the eyes locked on his, jumping between the girls waiting gazes. _Don’t panic! Play it cool! It’s just a kiss, how hard could that be?_ He turned back to Dean; his cocky smile had slipped as he bit his lip, giving Cas a look that promised ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to…’ _Were his lips always that plump?!_ But one look at those shining eyes and Cas knew that Dean wasn’t about to back out of the challenge if he could help it. Trying for a smile that quickly twitched out of existence, Cas glugged at his drink, choking on it as it caught in his throat.

_Cool it Cas! Do you want them to suspect…_

“Cas, have you ever kissed anyone before?”

_Fuck!_

“Yeah, loads! I mean lots of girls – guys – times -” he stammered, shredding the label of his bottle by the time Jo jumped in.

“-Which stands for ‘never’, ‘not once’ and ‘nope’, am I right?”

"Nuh-uh!" Cas replied, putting a lot of effort into shaking his head and looking confused by Jo's accusations at the same time. "There's - uh - Amelia from Science, and - um - Daphne, she was from my, er -"

"Boy, you's a baaaaad liar," chimed Rhonda as she returned from her climb up the tree outside.

"Rule number one of lying, Clarence," Meg continued, somehow managing to point his way and swig her drink in one go, "less details in your story. And maybe think it through before speaking."

Cas nodded, slumping in defeat. He waited for the ridicule, the inevitable chants of ‘virgin’, for his ejection from the room to the sounds of mocking laughter. What he didn’t expect, when he eventually looked up, was the sight of five individuals who seemed considerably non-plused by the whole situation.

“Sugar, ‘s like so not a problem” Rhonda slurred, picking a leaf out of her hair.

“Yeah, wish I’d waited,” Jo admitted, slugging back her drink as if it could wash away the ghastly memory. She caught the questioning gazes looking her way and elaborated. “My buddy Ash in 6th grade. We were too good a mates; it felt like kissing my cousin or something!”

The rest of the circle nodded in agreement, all whisked away to long ago memories. Even Dean, who sighed happily. At least until he caught Cas’s eye; then he cleared his throat, and the memory, away.

“But what if I’m bad at it?” Cas whispered shyly, hating the heat inching up his face as he struggled to look Dean in the eye. Dean gently placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, but the clank of glass on wood sounded behind them before he could reply.

“That, Clarence, is what practice is for.” Meg proclaimed, shedding her jacket and rocking up onto her knees. “Pucker up buttercup, I’m coming for ya!”

Cas’s eyes grew wide as she ate up the distance between them, crawling with conviction despite the alcohol in her system. Before he could blink she was parked in front of him, cheeks pink and dirt smudged, eyebrow raised in question; it took Cas a good few seconds to realise that she was awaiting his permission to proceed.

Meg dived the second Cas nodded. His sluggish mind hadn’t seen the kiss coming at such speed, and so was thoroughly unprepared for when her lips landed smack-bang on target. Mouth all smushed, all he could see was the fuzzy blur of dark hair against pale, pale skin. _Maybe I should close my eyes?_ But despite all her bluster and bolshiness, Meg’s kiss was surprisingly tender; her lips, plump and soft, moved with purpose against his own, tempting them into following suit. Slowly, two steps behind at first, Cas got with the programme, and they began to establish some form of rhythm.

_God, am I doing this right? Are her lips supposed to be sticky? Is that her or the beer?_

Meg tilted her head, the new angle helping to deepen the kiss. Sensing nervousness, however, she decided not to try for tongue. _This is ok. Nice, even - Stop it Cas, just concentrate!_ Warm and wet, his lips tingled as Meg moaned into his mouth. _Shit, should I be moaning too?_ The roll of his thought process ramped up to eleven as she placed a hand on his shoulder. _Argh what do I do with my hands? Do they go on her shoulder? Her waist?_ He peeked one eye open, seeking out its exact location. _What I accidentally grab her boob? She’ll punch me for sure…_ He tried for a breath. _Am I supposed to be thinking this much?_

Cas’s first kiss was over as quickly as it began, finishing to the sounds of whooping, cheering and ear shattering wolf whistles. Dean even began thumping his back in congratulations as Meg pulled away, leaving him a rumpled, dazed shell of the boy he was before. He touched his lips, smiling as the realisation dawned on him; _I did it! And she didn’t run away screaming afterwards!_

“We’ve got a quick study here. You’re in for a good time Winchester!” Meg winked, settling back into the circle, celebrations dying down as she picked up her beer. “So whose turn is it now?”

“Hey hey hey! What about my dare?” Dean pouted. “You stole my kiss Masters! I demand retri- retribu- gimme a new one or your Kahlua’s going down the toilet!”

“Try it and your head’ll be next!”

Luckily for everyone involved, Rhonda came to the rescue. Silencing Meg with a cookie (which she took – eventually - with a reluctant scowl) she crawled on over to the sandy haired boy, braids swinging, artfully dodging the biscuit aimed straight for Dean’s face. She whispered conspiratively into his ear, hand up covering her mouth and everything; all Cas could do was watch, bemused, as Dean’s face went from intent listening, to open mouthed shock, to ‘oh my God yes!’ in three seconds flat. She grinned like mischief on a mission. He threw one back with splendour.

“You’re on!”

And with that Rhonda was up and out of the room. Dean scrambled, hot on her skirt tails, leaving Cas with nothing but a wink and a thumbs up as he disappeared from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long for the extra long wait! Thanks for your patience my lovelies, it means the world to me that you're still here waiting for updates <3
> 
> As always, comment and kudos if you like what you read, and I promise the next chapter won't take nearly as long to upload (maybe even as close as later this week if you're lucky!)


	18. Lipstick Kisses and Lacy Panties

The low murmured giggling was coming from… somewhere. Muffled and drowning thanks to the high spirited country music that had replaced the pop, but very much there. I had been a good ten – fifteen? – minutes since Dean had left for his mission, and when he hadn’t returned when Rhonda did, Cas decided to go looking for his missing roommate.

Two rooms in one cabin, and he wasn’t in either of them. Cas’s search wasn’t going very well.

The giggling started up again. Cas span, nothing around him in the semi darkness save for two beds, four walls and an uncountable mound of clothes. Creaking, the room took a second to catch up as he stopped, his mind following shortly after; the girls were all in the other room (two rooms in one cabin? Practically luxury after living in half a room for weeks) so by process of elimination it could only be –

“Dean?”

“Duuuuude!” replied Dean’s head, floating sideways in mid-air. Cas blinked. Then again when the mussed hair, crinkled eyes and lazy smile failed to disappear. _What the hell was in that Kahlua?_

“Dude, get in here, you gotta see this!” And with that, poof! He was gone.

 _Where did you come from? Where did you go? Where did you come from Cotton Eyed – oh for God’s sake!_ Trying to stop the music going round, right round – _like a record baby... stop it!_ – in his brain, Cas tripped forward, aiming roughly for where the head had been; either he was going mad and seeing headless (bodiless?) ghosts, or Dean was secretly a magician. Cas paused, chuckling; _Dean’d look funny in a top hat._ But alas, no such luck. Instead Cas discovered a secret door hidden in the wooden wall; a door which lead to a bathroom, which lead to Dean’s head - now reunited with his body - propped up against the sink, shining in the glow of the singular light bulb. He grinned his most shit eating-est grin, the one that screamed _I know something you don’t know._

“I did it! I did Rhonda’s dare!” Dean beamed sloppily, eyes sparkling like a kid on Christmas morning. A kid who’d gotten into his parents sherry stash. Then he squinted, closing one eye to help focus better. “Why’re you covered in lipstick?” Normally, such an observation would’ve had Cas blushing puce and running straight for the nearest sink; but now he merely ran a hand through his already dishevelled hair, trying not to sound too braggy as he staggered towards Dean.

“The girls wanted to test Meg’s ‘quick study’ theory.” Cas threw up the air quotes, nearly losing balance as he did so. “Said I was now safe for public consumption…”

Dean laughed so deep his whole body joined in, rolling and shaking against the cold porcelain. Cas did to; little bubbles quickly turning guttural, his face crinkling, smile gummy and wide. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and nearly doubled over, a rainbow nation of pink lipstick kisses smeared all over his face. Hooting, stitch in his side, Dean reached for a hand towel – missing twice - and dampened it. Little breaths drifted gently over Cas’s cheeks as Dean leaned in, working to remove the stubborn stains. The tiny room grew quiet, their chuckles turning soft, still.

“You know you’re, like, my best friend right?” Dean whispered as he went. He paused, towel frozen in the air, thinking. “I’ve never had a best friend before,” he muttered wondrously, as if it had never occurred to him before.

Cas tried to concentrate on what Dean was telling him, he really did, because it sounded pretty important, but it was a little tricky given how close Dean was; Cas could see the gold flecks in his eyelashes, count every freckle curling up round his ear, glimpse the callouses that were brushing steadily across his cheek... Judging by the mirror opposite, his face read ‘concentration’ as ‘super scowly, frowny, scrunched up face’ time. No wonder Dean was giggling whilst trying to smooth his forehead with his thumb. Well, it was more poking that smoothing, but Cas got the gist.

“Dude, yer gonna lose yer eyebrows if you keep doing that!”

“M-tryin to focus. The two of you keep moving.”

So Dean clapped a ‘steadying’ hand to his shoulder, which worked about as well as you’d expect; the both of them swayed together on the spot, enjoying the warm silence stretching out between them. Doing nothing but look at each other – it should have been weird, and Cas took comfort in the fact that it wasn’t. Smiling. The occasional bubble of laughter. Trying not to fall down. Just letting time float on by and not caring why they were in that dimly lit bathroom.

_Why are we in this dimly lit bathroom?_

“So what’d Rhonda dare you to do?”

Dean bit his lip, eyes wide in almost feverish excitement. Casting an ungainly look over both shoulders to double check they were truly alone (not that they could fit anyone else in the bathroom without them definitely noticing) he hooked a thumb through his belt loop and tugged down the side of his jeans...

And there, resting against the smooth, hard jut of his hip, was a stretch of lacy pink satin.

“I’m wearing Rhonda’s panties!” Dean exclaimed about two flat seconds after Cas’s brain twigged what he was staring at. Any semblance of blush that tried to creep over Cas’s face, any words that tried to stutter out from his throat, was quickly smothered by Dean’s hand rushing up to cover Cas’s mouth.

“Don’t tell the others!” Dean hushed, quick and quiet, as if to spill a secret he thought he’d take to the grave. He leaned closer, eyebrow raised, waiting for Cas to promise. Moved a finger off of Cas’s eyelid. “Don’t – don’t tell the other, but I… I really like them. They feel really good, ya know? Course you don’t – it’s too weird – I should really -”

 _Should really what? Know better? Take them off?_ Cas squinted, Dean’s throat bobbing like a ship in the ocean. The speed of which Dean’s emotions changed from happy to downright scared threw Cas for a loop; not that he was well versed in the emotions of others at the best of times, but with the added bonus of alcohol – _stupid, stupid alcohol!_ – in his system, the words filtered in but wouldn’t take root. For the life of him Cas couldn’t work out why Dean looked so strained to admit them, why he could no longer seem to look Cas in the eye.

So instead Cas, a little cross-eyed, tried to focus on the micro expressions battling across Deans face; simple joy, pleasure even, being battered down by shame and guilt - feelings that only came from years of having them bullied into you. And if Cas knew anything about anything, it was about being bullied. _He doesn’t deserve that_ was all he could think. _Dean deserves to be happy._ Dean Winchester deserved happiness in his life, and if something as simple as wearing panties made him happy then... well... Cas was gonna bloody well make sure they let him!

“They look really good on you,” was what his mangled thoughts managed to come up with. Not quite the poetic speech Cas was unable to make his brain stitch together, but wholehearted belief still laced every word as beautifully as the lace across Dean’s leg; conviction in his heart, mind and soul as he inelegantly pressed their foreheads together.

The rest of the bathroom melted away as those gorgeous green eyes finally came back up to meet him, swimming in tears of hope and disbelief. The simple complement smoothed out all the creases on Dean’s face, and Cas caught a glimpse of the carefree boy that had been buried beneath the rough-tough surface. Butterflies crashes in his stomach as those fingers, having fallen down his face, clumsily cupped Cas’s jaw, in praise, in please, in thank you, thumb brushing the stain from his lips that had long since washed away. Cas’s mouth fell apart at their touch, breathing deep, tasting nothing but his essence in the air around them; apples, beer, leather, sunshine, _Dean_. Goosebumps prickling his skin as Dean looked to his lips, eyes, lips again, falling closer, closer, closer...

“GOTCHA!”

They jumped apart as a flash filled the room, white, bright and blinding; Dean letting go, thrown back against the sink as Cas tumbled sideways, gracelessly stumbling into the now open door.

“Nothing! We weren’t doing anything!” They chorused, straightening clothes, hair, everything they thought looked even remotely out of place. To the ears of Jo, Charlie, Meg and Rhonda, crammed together in hollow doorway, it all sounded, as well as looked, highly unconvincing; the room stank of the sweet, heady mixture of booze, tension and guilt, broken only by heavy breathing and the click-whir of Charlie wheeling on her camera.

“Finally decided you wanted in on that dare Winchester?”

“No! No- I was just- clearing up the lipstick disaster that was Cas’s face-”

“With what, your tongue?”

“NO! That shit smears alright? I was tryin’ to make Cas look less like the Joker.” Dean shot back at Meg, who instantly scowled in suspicion. He threw a nervous glance in Cas’s direction. “Isn’t that right buddy?”

With room to think, to feel, to breathe, Cas’s head caught up with what was going on around him. Saw those eyes, dry, screaming _back me up here man_. Heard the firm emphasis on the word ‘buddy’. Felt his chest harden; hollow, like something had been scooped out… It was probably the booze talking (metaphorically speaking) but for a second Cas had wanted whatever was about to happen. He thought Dean did too, but one look at that horrified face told him that feeling was not shared.

_I don’t understand… Did I read the situation wrong? I’m not that drunk… am I?_

Utterly flummoxed, his sobering mind quietly reminded him that Dean kinda needed an answer - and God did Cas want to give him one, one that would require them to hash out the last five minutes right there on cold tiled floor - but despite everything, he didn’t want to lose his best friend, not over something as stupid as a ‘drunken mishap’. So Cas did his best to stow the truth of his feelings, squashing them deep down as far as they could, and put on the brightest smile he owned. Dean winced.

“Yes, that is correct. My face was a mess.”

Sighs and disappointment was their only reply. Meg rolled her eyes at the pair of them.

“Whatever. If you knuckleheads insist on repressing your feelings, then we’re off to the lake. Jo dared me to skinny dip and I’m cashing in!” Declaration announced, Meg marched away, the chants of Rhonda and Jo following in her wake. Only Charlie lingered, for some reason pointing her camera accusingly Dean’s way. Dean raised his hands defensively, some sort of silent conversation playing out between them, before Charlie tutted, shook her head, and turned tail to catch up with her friends, leaving Cas, Dean, and the cold draft of reality behind her.

Dean groaned, fingers running score marks through his hair, slumping tiredly against the sink until he remembered someone was still in the bathroom with him. He quirked an attempt of a smile, trying to decide how best to proceed. Cas just stood there; patient, waiting, unblinking.

“C’mon Cas, let’s – let’s go back to the party.”

Dean was out the door before Cas had the chance to open his mouth. Even if he did, what would he say? He didn’t know the protocol for this; didn’t even know if he could _say_ the word ‘protocol’ right now. All rebuttals, all ‘wait, Dean’s were lodged uselessly in his throat, leaving nothing but a lot of questions and a bad taste in his mouth.

So he did the only thing that was left for him to do.

“As you wish.” He replied to the emptiness, closing the door on ‘what could have been’ behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week? I spoil you guys, I really do ;) And also... SORRY! *mwahahaha*
> 
> As always, comment and kudos if you're liking what you're reading!


	19. Brothers and Brutal Hangovers

Everywhere hurt. His eyes hurt as the hallways cold, uncaring florescent lights burned into his skull (although that was nothing compared to when he first staggered outside, suddenly understanding how vampires felt about the sun). Hell, even his hair hurt. 

Cas wasn’t just hungover. He was hungover as fuck.

And how there wasn’t a forehead shaped dent in the telephone casing by now was beyond him.

_Sweet potatoes this feels good!_ The metal was working wonders on Castiel’s throbbing forehead, the cool steel soothing as jackhammers pounded between his eyes. He would have tried to find a way to hug the device against his humming body without looking completely crazy, but his brain ached at the thought of thinking so that plan went out the window. Instead Cas settled for closing his eyes, moaning down the receiver at his highly amused brothers; somehow he’d managed to call when all three of them were home (a rarity in any instance), and being the kind, caring and compassionate siblings that they were, they’d decided that speakerphone was the best way to broadcast his pain. 

_Fuckers._

“So how are we feeling this morning Cas?” Mike chortled affectionately at his baby brother, only sounding a little less chastising than he expected. 

“Urghhhhh…”

“Hehe, mixing your drinks is a rookie mistake little brother. But don’t worry, you only do it once -”

A muffled “- hair of the dog! -” floated over Michaels voice. Cas used any energy he had left to hold down the contents of his stomach.

“- Luce says you need another drink to get back on track.” Mike relayed. Cas retched. Luce giggled devilishly in the background.

“Yes, that’s not my cup of tea either. Personally, I find a shower and a fry up is the best solution.” Cas made a sloppy mental note to throw his head into the biggest pile of sausages and beans he could find. He smacked his lips, adding water to the list too. 

“So how was last night then? If you remember anything at all?” _Oh great. I’m being required to speaking. Yay!_

“It was… good.” He croaked “Really good actually. We danced, we drank, we played Spin the Bottle with the girls -”

“Hold up hold up!” Gabe jumped in, suddenly sounding a lot closer to the phone. Cas winced, painfully remembering that Gabe didn’t do volume control. “You actually actively participated in Spin the Bottle, the King of Drunk Make-Out games, with real life, breathing, slightly tipsy women?”

Cas sighed, knowing what was coming. “Yes Gabe, I did.”

“And did you kiss any of them?”

“… Yes?”

“I’M SO PROUD OF YOU!” Gabriel crowed, sending Cas reeling from the receiver. The sheer exuberance spilling down the phone was unlike anything he’d heard from his brother before. “My son, you are truly one of the family now!”

“But I’m your broth-”

“- It’s an expression Cassie! Now tell me everything. Was she hot? Did she do -”

“Gabe, leave Castiel be.” Michael scolded, taking sympathy on his youngest sibling. 

“I need details Mikey! I wasn’t there to witness his first kiss -”

“You wanted to be?”

Cas rubbed at his ear forlornly as the rumble of his brothers phone wrestling echoed over the speaker. As it slowly lulled him to sleep, he could picture them in the sunlit kitchen; Gabe dancing around the island whilst Mike swatted at him with a newspaper, Luce making silent bets to himself as to who would win. Eyelids drooping, Cas smiled, the image dancing him off into dreamland…

“… Cas? You still there?” Mike finally resumed, jerking Cas awake again. His older brother sounded breathless, fainter than before – probably holding the phone out of Gabriel’s reach.

“I’m here… just about.”

“Atta boy! So, was this Dean I’ve been hearing so much about at this party last night?”

Ah yes. _Dean._ Cas wasn’t surprised Gabe had blabbed to Mike about Dean. Not that there was much to blab about since Cas hadn’t decided whether to tell them about their ‘near kiss’; mainly because he hadn’t had a chance to talk to Dean about it yet (Cas had woken up to an empty cabin, save for a note that read ‘Gone to get pants out of tree – see you later!’ How they had gotten up there Cas honest to god couldn’t remember. They could have been stolen by owls for all he knew) but also because… well, how would they react? Their parents were the epitome of the All American Family, and had raised them in a very conservative manner. Clearly Gabriel didn’t give a damn that he liked a boy (yeah, after last night, Cas couldn’t deny it any longer), but he was the rebel of the family. Michael and Luce, on the other hand? Cas shuddered, and decided to go for the safe option.

“Yeah, Dean was there. So was Meg, and Rhonda, and Jo…”

“This party’s sounding more and more like Gabe’s dream orgy. Were no other guys interested in evening up the ratio?” Mike chuckled.

Cas’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Well, that would have been tricky, given that Dean’s brother Sam is only ten, which would have been highly inappropriate. Apart from him and Mr Singer, there’s no other guys here.” 

An icy silence blew through the receiver as everything went quiet on his brothers’ end.

“Castiel,” Mike asked, voice low and dangerous and not to be messed with, “why are there no other guys at your camp?”

The furrow deepened. “…Because it’s an all-girls camp?”

“YOU’RE AT AN ALL GIRLS CAMP?!” Mike bellowed.

Oh shit. Cas’s reaction appeared to be a shared one as he heard Gabe utter the same thing over the phone. The sharp squeak-scrape of chairs on lino was followed swiftly by the sound of frantic scarpering.  
“I’m going to kill you two!” Cas could hear Mike threaten his brothers, suddenly alert and wishing he was there to calm everything down. Cas didn’t know if it was an older brother thing in general, or just a trait particular to his brother, but Michael had a tendency to dive head first into fixing a problem even if there was no actual problem to fix. He’d have to ask Dean when he got the chance.

If he got the chance – first he had to plug the pin on this grenade.

“Mike, I’m sorry, I thought Gabe told you –“

“Cas, pack your bags, I’m coming to get you!” Muffled stomping echoed down the line as he stormed through the house. Cas’s heart stopped.

“Wait, Mike, that’s not-“

“I’ll be there in an hour or so, don’t worry –“ Keys jingled over the line, turning in a door.

“-Mike-“ 

The crunch of gravel.

“-with your social anxiety-“ 

The rev of an engine.

“MICHAEL STOP!” 

The line went dead on the other end, and for a horrible moment Cas thought Mike had hung up. Cas stood there, panicking, heart racing at the thought of leaving everything behind; He wasn’t ready to go, not when he’d just finally found his feet. He still had things to finish here, friends he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to. And Dean. How was he going to tell Dean?

“… Cas?” Came his brother’s startled reply.

_Oh thank the Lord._

“Please don’t take me away Mike,” Cas was almost pleading, begging his brother to listen, “I’m ok, honestly, I promise! I – I like it here!” Words began to trip over themselves in their effort to race out of his mouth, filling the silence that was his only response. “I mean, when I first got here it was a little awkward, I’ll admit, but now… I’ve made friends. Real, proper friends who I’m actually having fun with. I think it’s been good for me.”

“I’ll say.” Mike finally answered, some warmth coming back into his voice. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak to me like that before.” Cas went to open his mouth - to argue or apologise, he wasn’t sure - until his brother hastily continued. “No no, it’s a good thing! You’re more confident than you used to be.”

Mike didn’t elaborate, but Cas sensed he really didn’t need to; the last time Mike saw him, Cas wouldn’t have whispered boo to a ghost, so him raising his voice to stand up to his brother was something of a culture shock. The kind that sounded like he could probably, maybe, hopefully get used to. So Cas asked tentatively “Then… I can stay?”

Nothing. Cas’s heart pounded in his throat. Then…

“You can stay.”

Cas sighed, his face flush with utter relief.

“Thanks Michael.”

“You’re very welcome. So, how’s it feel to be surrounded by girls?”

Happy to be back on safer ground, Cas chuckled. “It’s been an experience. Scary at first, but once they promised not to throw me in the lake again –“

“THEY DID WHAT?!” Mike roared.

_Oh sweet Jesus…_

*~*~*

"Not too bad today Cas," Dean commended as they walked back down the trail later that day, the cold water having thoroughly wiped clean the last of their hangovers. "We may have you jumping off the pier yet!"

The sun filtering through the canopy above them dappled across their bodies, drying their skin a might better than the towel they'd brought with them. Still, Dean raked it through his hair as Cas tried to keep his eyes off of his freckled shoulders.

"Plus, you only swallowed half the lake this time" Dean laughed, throwing the towel at Cas. It landed over his face with a small 'thwap', obscuring the adorable scowl that had just begun to form. As Cas wrestled the clingy dampness from off his head, Dean found his eyes wondering across Cas' exposed torso. The size-too-big clothes Cas wore really did him no favours, Dean found himself thinking. No one would ever have guessed the guy had any form of muscle till the day he saw them with his own eyes; and under Dean's tutelage, he'd noticed them develop as the summer went on - his shoulders were definitely bigger, the muscles on his back more toned, his arms... Dean gulped, pointedly turning is gaze towards a particularly interesting twig as he realised what he was doing. 

Ok, so it wasn't like he never thought the guy was good looking or anything - he was, or at least he had been. In that classically nerdy kind of way - but he'd never thought of him as hot till... well, now. Now he couldn't seem to get it out of his mind, and between that and what little he could remember of the party, it was starting to give him a headache. Dean couldn't put his finger on what it was - it was like Cas had filled out or something, like he was no longer that pasty shade of olive, timid kid that inexplicably beat him at fencing all those weeks ago.

It was like Cas had turned into an actual fifteen year old guy, who was standing topless near him, with no idea as to how gorgeous he was and what it was doing to Dean's mind right now.

_Where's a fucking cold lake when you need one?_

By the time Cas managed to get the towel off his head, Dean had somehow composed himself. Not completely, judging from Cas' questioning look, that inquisitive scowl that sent Dean’s stomach into somersaults, but he didn't say anything. So instead owning up and actually talking to his best friend, Dean plastered on the most winning smile he had, shucked on his t-shirt, and carried on down the trail as normally as possible.

Cas was a little disappointed with the additional layer Dean had put on, but figured that as they were nearing camp it might not be appropriate to be walking around topless in front of young girls (and Dean's little brother to boot) so he followed suit. He was more concerned that something was up with Dean - they were usually in no rush to get back to camp, and Dean hadn't been this quiet with him since the first week.

_Maybe he's just hungry? He does get awfully cranky when he's hungry. Plus its burger and chips tonight, he's probably just banking on getting back in time for -_

"Heeeeeeeeeeeelp!"

Cas's head snapped up at the small, shrill voice splitting through the trees. This part of the forest was usually quiet, and that wasn’t a bird call he was familiar with. “Did you hear that?” Dean asked, stopping in his tracks, tilting his head to determine which direction it came from.

"Help! Mr Dean, somebody, HELP!"

Dean was off like a shot, crashing through the trees to his right like a man possessed. Cas, not even thinking twice, ran after him, using the girls shouts and the carnage of the undergrowth to guide him after Dean had disappeared from sight.

He caught up with Dean not a few minutes later, finding him crouched next to a small girl with messy blonde ringlets. Cas barely recognised the part of the forest they were now in, but he recognised the girl – Jess – and wondered what she was doing here, so far out from the safety of the camp. Dean was obviously worried too, but despite his breathlessness he was the face of calm, instead trying to gently coax some answers out of her. 

But the big tears rolling down her cheeks and hoarseness from shouting had rendered her mute, save for the occasional hiccup, so she simply pointed up towards a nearby tree - a tall, ancient thing that creaked with age. Cas followed the line of sight she created, squinting, trying to make out the small blob hidden between the leaves, his eyes flying wide when two shining hazel orbs stared back at him.

There, lying precariously on a branch far too far towards the top of the tree, was...

"Sammy!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise for the ridiculously long waiting period between this and the last chapter. It's been one of those summers where everything hit all at once - severely ill grandparents, DCBB (which is out in two days time!!) and a lovely new illness which renders my eyes incapable of looking at computer screens without hurting like a motherflipper - and so this fic kind of had to take a backburner for a while.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience <3 Lets see if I can get this finished by Christmas!!


	20. Rescuing Sammy

"Sammy! Hold on!" Dean hollered up the tree, eyes wide with fear as they zeroed in on his little brother. Not that Sam had ever planned on letting go; up until that point, he had been more focused on holding onto the branch for dear life, cheek pressed firmly into the bark and eyes squeezed shut. But at the sound of his brothers’ voice Sam’s eyes flew open, and he nearly toppled over the side as he looked down, searching desperately for Dean. The yelp that squeaked out as he tried to correct himself sent Dean into overdrive.

"I'm coming Sammy!" he roared as he made for the tree. Cas stood there, awestruck; he had never seen anyone look so scared in his life. Nor had he seen anyone try to hide the fear as badly as Dean was there and then. Cas wished he could help in some way, but the tree, arthritic with age, creaked under the pressure of the gentle breeze, so any more people added to its branches would surely do more harm than good.

Cas did wonder, if for a second, whether they should go get Bobby and Ellen; they were the adults, after all, and probably had ladders and other such equipment necessary for this kind of situation. But then sense kicked in, and Cas remembered that none of them were even supposed to be in this part of the forest - if Mr and Mrs Singer found out, then his and Dean’s secret swimming sessions would end. Theirs and the girl's adventures into the woods would be discovered too, and it may have been selfish, but Cas wasn’t ready to lose all that yet. Besides, if anyone could successfully pull off a rescue mission, it was Dean - Cas knew that better than anyone. So he stayed with Jess, snaking an arm around her shoulders as they watched Dean climb the tree.

Or at least he tried to. Cas’s brow began to furrow as he studied Dean's faltering attempts. It wasn't as if Dean didn't have the skill, the upper body strength, the sheer bloody mindedness to get up the tree, but he couldn't seem to rise more than a few metres off the ground before a shaky misplaced hand or foot sent him crashing back to the forest floor. It wasn't until Dean looked down on his fourth attempt that Cas really saw his face, and saw it plagued with the same crippling fear Cas saw in himself when he used to hide in the bathroom of his local swimming pool.

_Dean's afraid of heights._

Before the realisation had fully settled in his brain, Cas had stalked over to Dean's latest drop spot. He placed a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder and, before he could begin scaling again, spun Dean around to face him, harder and faster than either of them had anticipated.

"Get off me Cas!” Dean battled, trying to wiggle out of his grip. “I have to go get him!" The anger was there, but Dean was panting, so exhausted it came out more as a whisper than a shout. Cas was so close he could see the desperation swimming in Dean’s eyes, panic making his body shake under Cas's hand, and it nearly tore Cas’s heart in two.

So he did the only thing he could think of and let go of Dean’s shoulder. Then, very calmly, Cas took Dean’s face between his hands, soothing a thumb across his freckled cheek, and whispered.

"Let me get him for you."

*~*~*  
There was something about climbing trees that Cas found wonderfully liberating. He was often in the habit of climbing them with a backpack full of books, just to find somewhere peaceful to read - Lord knows it was impossible to do in the house when Gabriel was knocking around. In fact, when Cas was little he used to climb the big oak tree in his mother's garden, all the way to the top until his head poked out from between the leaves. He loved to see his home town sprawled out around him, all perfect, quiet and golden in the early morning light. The breeze would ruffle through his hair, and if he closed his eyes and spread out his arms, he could almost pretend that he was flying.

He also nearly gave his mother a heart attack when she spotted him doing just that one morning. Her unexpected shouting from the bedroom window nearly sent him flying for real.

So as the rough bark scraped beneath his fingertips Cas gave into muscle memory, and before long he was coming up level with the branch Sam Winchester was clinging to. He looked so small lying there, the brown of his floppy hair almost melting into the branch their colours were so similar. As Cas settled on the base of the branch he saw the boy attempt to look his way, but one shake of the leaves caught him so by surprise that he had his cheek smushed back against the bark in no time.

"Hey Sam, my name's Casti - Cas," he spoke softly, a kind smile on his lips to try and ease the terror written all over the poor boy's face. "I'm gonna get you down, ok? Just hang on, I'll come to you."

Sam nodded a tiny, terrified nod, and watched Cas begin to slowly walk his hands across the bough. He started to scoot along its length, legs dangling either side to maintain balance. Once settled in his new position Cas dared for a smile, pleased in his progress as he repeated the manoeuvre.

“Don’t worry Sam, I’ll have you down in -”

_Creeeeeaaaaaakkk!_

Cas froze. Once the sound had settled, he tentatively tested the last point where his hands had been. The creaking started up again, and Cas spotted the split forming along the bark between him and Sam.

"Okay Sam," Cas whispered, trying to ignore his own racing heartbeat and the sweat collecting on his brow, conscious that any wrong sound or movement could send the branch crashing down. And the two of them along with it. "I need you to come to me, ok? Do you think you can do that?"

A barely-there shake of the head was his only reply; Sam was too transfixed on the ground below him to do anything else.

"Sam, look at me. It's going to be ok.” Cas had to think fast - the branch wasn't going to hold forever, and he couldn't get any closer. “I know you're scared, but -" _Creeeeeeeeak_ "- but not as scared as Dean is right now."

Nothing. Cas’s stomach clenched, heart pounding in his throat as the small boy refused to co-operate. Eyes darting about, Cas gulped, trying to wrack his brains for another way out. Any way out. Anything. But the endless canopy of trees surrounding them gave him nothing.

Then, just as he was about to lose hope...

"Dean's not scared of anything," came the timid reply.

“I know he may not want you to think it, but he really is, Sam,” Cas hurried, words rushing out as he sighed in relief, “he’s so scared that you’re up this high and can’t get down…”

“Then why didn’t he come get me?”

Cas faltered, gnawing at his lip; he couldn’t lose Sam now. Dean had his pride, and Cas knew Dean wouldn’t want him spilling all of his secrets without his say so. But Sam seemed like a smart kid (current predicament aside) and Cas didn’t want to lie to him for fear that Sam would stop co-operating again. Besides, Cas thought, would it even matter if Sam knew the truth? Any fool could see that Sam idolised his big brother, just from the way he stared down at Dean even now. One little admission wasn’t going to change that.

And Cas should know; he still loved his own brothers, despite their varying degrees of faults.

"Dean wanted to, and I promise you, he tried so hard. But…” Cas cast an eye down and hoped that Dean couldn’t hear him, “Dean’s scared of heights. And he's scared you're up this tree. So really, he's twice as scared than you are right now -"

 _Creeeeeeeak._ The split grew wider. Cas lent forward as far as he dared, arm reaching out towards Sam.

"-so you need to be the brave one, ok? Can you do that for me, Sam? Be brave for Dean, and grab my hand!"

Sam finally looked up at Cas, eyes so wide and watery Cas could practically see himself in them. Slowly, oh so slowly, Sam released his death grip from the tree, reaching a small hand out towards Cas's outstretched palm.

“That’s it! Almost there!”

The branch screeched. Sam yelped. Cas could feel little fingers brush beneath his own...

_Snap!_

“SAM!”

Cas grabbed and pulled just as the branch fell from view, Sam landing on his chest with the force of a small rhino. Wheezing, they lay strewn against the bark, hearing nothing but the crash of wood tumbling down the tree until, with a final whumph it hit the forest floor. Then, just as the din died down enough for the cries of “Sam!” and “Cas!” to float up towards them, Cas could just make out the muffled sobs of a child at prayer.

"Thank you Cas. Thank you thank you thank you..."

With a winded sigh, Cas returned the hug he could feel shaking around his torso.

"You're welcome, Sam Winchester."


	21. Kid, Call Me Bobby

The full extent of what had just happened didn't fully hit Cas till the moment his feet hit solid ground; he was floating on a cloud of adrenaline and disbelief as Dean practically ripped Sam out of Cas’s arms and into his own, enveloping his younger brother in the biggest, most bone-crushing hug imaginable. Sam squirmed a little, muttering “Dean, you’re hurting…” but the pair seemed far too relieved that the ordeal was over to care. Their relief was short lived, however, as the crunch of footsteps came towards them. Cas turned just as Ellen and Bobby came hurtling into view, stomach dropping as he held his breath, anticipating the riot act they were all about to receive.

So he was quite surprised to find himself enveloped in his own bone crushing hug instead.

"We heard the crash from the office - are you guys all ok?" Ellen asked as she pulled away, frantic beneath her usually calm exterior as she searched his face for injuries. She squeezed Cas’s shoulders and sighed in relief when he nodded that they were fine, before turning her attention to Jess; She seemed a lot better now that her friend was out of danger, but Ellen still wiped away a few stray tears from her face before Jess managed to get Sam into her own 'happy you're alive' hug. Though Cas thought he spotted a 'you're an idiot' punch thrown in for good measure.

Cas wished he’d had a friendship like that when he was ten.

Having finished checking over his nephews splinters and scrapes Mr Singer was next, standing before Cas like a great grey grizzly bear. He looked significantly less relieved than his wife. In fact, from the stern set of his glare, Mr Singer looked ready to give Cas a few new holes of his own. The old man bent so that they were eye to eye, and Cas gulped. He had nowhere to hide.

“The truth,” Mr Singer’s voice didn’t need to be loud to be dangerous, “what happened here Novak?”

Cas dared one quick glance around Mr Singer’s barrel-like chest to the boys behind him. Sam, still half in his brothers embrace, was worrying his lip and looking guilty as hell. And Dean… Dean looked defeated, staring down at the leafy carpet around his knees and wishing he was anywhere but here. Cas understood - if he did as he was told, they would both be in so much trouble they wouldn’t know where to start. At best, his swimming lessons with Dean would be over, they would be separated for the rest of the summer, and Dean would never be allowed to see Cas again. At worst, Cas would be kicked out of camp which, while it would make Gabe proud, Cas’s parents wouldn’t be, and they would make sure that Cas could never see, speak, or even write to Dean ‘The Bad Influence’ ever. And god knows what would happen to the brothers if their father heard the truth - from the little Dean had told him, Mr Winchester had practically made it Dean’s life long mission to protect Sam at all costs. And Mr Winchester didn’t sound like a man who would take lightly to being disobeyed.

If Cas had been the Cas that had first turned up at camp, he would have answered truthfully no questions asked. Luckily for them all, Cas had had five excellent influences over the last few weeks.

“Well, Mr Singer, sir,” Cas started, slow, steady and without breaking eye contact, “Dean and I had just finished swimming class at the pool with Counsellor Jody, and were walking back to our room to change for lunch when we heard someone shouting in the woods…”

Dean’s head shot up when he realised what was happening. Cas was lying to his uncle. Cas was lying _excellently_ to his uncle. Counsellor Abby was always so preoccupied by painting her nails to take proper attendance, and technically they _were_ having swimming lessons. Cas said it so smoothly, and coupled with that utterly trustworthy face of his he even had Dean nearly believing.

“So we followed the shouts,” Cas continued, trying to breathe steady, “and found Jess here on the ground and Sam up the tree. Her kite had got stuck and Sam tried to get it down for her, but got stuck himself. We were going to come get you, sir, but Sam shouted down that the branch was breaking and we knew there wouldn’t be time. We didn’t want him to get hurt, sir.”

Mr Singer said nothing. Not a twitch to indicate if he was swallowing story.

“I decided to go get Sam - I’m lighter and faster, so I figured I’d be less likely to disturb the branch - whilst Dean is stronger, so if Sam did fall he’d be able to catch him better. And… well, we got him down. And we were going to take him straight to you but you got here first. Promise, sir!”

Everyone held their breath as Mr Singer digested. He reared up, scanning the treetops that swayed in the breeze. He frowned as he followed the bough down, the once strong branch now shattered to pieces across the forest floor. Then, finally, he stared down Sam and Dean, before turning back to Cas with a gruff expulsion of air.  He reached out and Cas shut his eyes, waiting for Mr Singer to grab him by the collar, to shout until he was red in the face… but all he got was a touch on his chin, calloused fingers surprisingly gentle as they turned Cas’s head this way and that, checking him over for any tree related injuries. Once satisfied that Cas didn’t need any urgent medical care, Mr Singer relaxed, his face breaking into a somewhat relieved smile.

“You’ll live. Nothing but a few splinters,” he assured Cas, before clasping his hand in a firm but deserved handshake, “you’re an idjit for going up there alone Novak, but you made the right call. Thanks for getting Sam outta there in one piece.”

Cas bowed his head, blushing; he wasn’t used to such gratitude, especially coming from an adult.

“It was no problem Mr Singer, I’m just glad I could help.”

“Kid, call me Bobby,” he gruffed finitely, “you’ve earned that much.”

And with that, Mr Singer - Bobby - turned back to the rest of the group, took Sam by the shoulder and gently guided him back to their cabin.

"Come on Sam, let’s get those cuts seen to..."

Ellen, guiding Jess, followed suit, leaving Cas with nothing but the crunch of retreating footsteps, the whistling wind and a wrought out Dean for company. Cas blinked slowly as he turned to face Dean who, despite everything that had happened that afternoon, was not following his brother back to camp. Cas couldn’t fathom it at first - Dean seemed ok, albeit slightly sweat damp with leaves still clinging to his knees. But there was something about his face - blank but oddly grimaced, and not just because of the reddened scrapes on his hands - and the way he seemed fused to the spot that stopped Cas short. _Why hasn’t he gone after Sam?_ In Cas's eyes the decision should have been simple.

"Go after him."

Dean’s mouth dropped open, fluttering in the breeze, shocked that he was being given permission to go. But as much as Cas wanted him to stay, he knew that for Dean’s own piece of mind he needed to be with Sam right now, and Cas wasn't about to let Dean put his own needs second for once.

Considering he wasn't usually on the receiving end of hugs often in his life, he was distinctly surprised to find himself in the arms of his third in less than fifteen minutes. Dean’s body thumped into Cas’s, nearly knocking the wind from his lungs as hands grasped at Cas’s back; much like his brother, Dean was a bit of a tight squeezer. There was something in the way Dean clung on that felt like he needed the comfort. But as Cas shifted to hug him back, it changed; like the comfort was being given as well as received, as if Dean was making sure that Cas was ok too. Cas melted into the embrace when he realised -  _it's the same hug he gave Sam._

And then Dean was gone, chasing after his family, leaving Cas with nothing but the lingering smell of sunshine to guide him back home.

*~*~*

Cas was starting to regret those final words to Dean after his second night alone in the cabin. Not that he wished Dean to leave his brother, nor that he couldn’t handle sleeping alone or anything – it was more the fact that Cas missed his presence. It was too quiet without Dean. Too much space.

So he may have been a bit too eager to open the door when it knocked the next morning. A little too crescent fallen when it wasn’t who he expected it to be.

“Calm down, Clarence, it’s just me,” Meg announced as she barrelled into the room, something black and plastic slapping Cas on the chest as she passed, “why the frilly hell would Dean knock at his own door?”

_Hello, come in why don’t you?_

“Sorry Meg,” Cas sighed, flopping back down onto his own bed. The ceiling had been a really good listener over the last 48 hours. “It’s not that I’m not happy to see you. It’s just… I thought it was-“

“Tall blond and freckled? Yeah well if you left this cabin once in awhile you’d have seen him by now numbskull!”

Cas shot up so fast he almost got whiplash. Meg had made herself comfortable on Dean’s bed, cross-legged with some form of clothes protector strewn across her knees. She was all leather jacket and metal band tee as normal, but the knowing smirk… that was new.

“Really? Is he ok?”

“God, obsess much?” Meg laughed. A laugh that quickly turned into an eye roll when Cas didn’t drop his unanswered glare. “Yeah he’s fine. Trailing after Sam like he is his fricking shadow, but otherwise fine,” she said exasperatedly. Although she did quirk a smile as she continued. “Think young Sammy’s about ready to fire him though...”

Cas’s heart came down from his throat as he sighed in relief at the news. _Thank god._ _Dean’s ok. Sam’s ok..._

_So why hasn’t Dean come back yet?_

“Anyway, enough about that – I came here for a reason. Catch!” Meg called as she pitched her item across the room. Cas hadn’t really been paying attention, so by the time he came out of his own head there was something black and plastic wrapped around it. Meg snorted.

“What is it?” he asked once he finally wrestled it off and laid it on his bed.

“That, Clarence, is your outfit for tonight,” Meg announced in a ‘ta-dah’ sort of way. Arms thrown out and everything. Cas stared blankly at her. She squinted questioningly back at him.

“For tonight? The end of camp fancy dress party?” She replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. And perhaps it was - Cas vaguely recalled something being mentioned to him. Around him. It being the only thing the girls seemed to talk about over the last week. Cas wanted to be more excited but he’d been a bit... preoccupied to say the least.

“Geez louise, remind me never to fall in love,” Meg muttered in defeat as she hopped off the squeaky bed and stomped towards the door. She stopped, one hand on the varnished wood.

“Wear it with that shirt and black slacks I know you’ve got lurking at the bottom of your duffle,” she advised, looking back at Cas as he stared forlornly at the as yet unopened protector. Normally Meg would have scoffed at the patheticness, at the fact Cas clearly hadn’t registered a word she’d said. Hell, she would have even used it to her advantage, calling out Cas’s wayward hair or rumpled Star Wars t-shirt. But today, even to her own surprise, she wrestled her natural instincts down. Maybe Rhonda was right; maybe she was growing fond of the little tree topper after all.

“By the way, Dean will probably be there tonight,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

That elicited the response she was after; Cas shot off the bed with glee, that all too rare gummy smile back in place as he ransacked his duffle.

“Thanks Meg!”

“Anytime Clarence!” she called as she disappeared out the door.

Cas was in such a good mood that he didn’t fully think through their conversation till a good few minutes later.

_Wait... when did she go through my duffle?_

**Author's Note:**

> So I got inspired to do this story whilst watching the 1998 version of 'The Parent Trap' - I always felt for the little boy who turned up, found himself in an all girls camp, and ended up having to stay there the entire summer (because, presumably, he never got through to his mum to come pick him up) cos, you know, that's gotta be daunting for the boy. But still, major kudos to him for sticking it out, making friends with the girls and liking it so much he promises to come back!
> 
> And then I thought, hey, what if that kid was Castiel as a teenager? And so this fic was born! (many apologies if it's already been done, I swear on the SPN cast I didn't know)
> 
> As always, comments and critiques are appreciated! Hope you all enjoy xx


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